Standing on the
platform at wing
listening to Leonard
Cohen and Old Crow’s
Crazy Eyes.
The sun rises
through a small hole
Clouds the forever
land sky scape.
my shoes no
longer fit
My blood is full
of wine.
O pilot please just
get us through
this hole of light
on time.
Dusk
that lonely place
between darkness
light’s obscure
distant shroud
present like knowledge
breath just passed
step. waltz. decay.
I attempt
loose calculations
what weight
two pears for breakfast?
then deem
icebreaking
a skill worth
acquiring.
Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.
