why is it that at 38,000 feet above the sea, the words come steady easy?**
~~~
heart and head soundlessly conversing,
as the body southernly traversing,
along the Atlantic Seaboard latitude,
quiescent, his manners and attitude,
sure where he is physical destined,
unsure where he is living bound
this time,
his designated place,
a blue leatherette stoop,
identifiable as Seat 23C
three seats, rowed across,
four letters, aisle down,
the crossword question;
what rhymes with "don't y'all know it" -
must be that word,
poet
why is it
that at 38,000 feet
above the sea,
the words come steady easy?
almost as if, they grow excited
by their return to the angelic upper atmospheres,
from whence they fell,
to a planet where mundanity revels
nothing to say,
plenty to feel,
like I said,
the head and the heart confer,
a baby born poem emerges
bawling and crawling,
lolling and drawling,
southern style
poem does not state a particular,
direction unknown,
disposed to the philosophical,
it forms, then reforms,
stymied but satisfied ironical,
posing while reposing,
the newborn's query repitiously millennial,
why?
the answer too,
an airborne pollen perennial,
just because
march 8, 2016
somewhere between
nyc & Fla.
11:20 pm