The Diminishing Dot
A Boeing occults Betelgeuse,red left and running,and an arrow loosedfinds not its mark.And in the green flickers,banked to a bull,some pink ears popand the belts stay locked. They’re always leaving,they…
Category: Flight
But For The Pheasant
But for the pheasant’s coppered wing the fieldsin sculpted snows ne’er bring the promised yieldsnor pleasures found ‘til light does crest the riseat dawn and ambers claw upon the eyes.…
The Hawk and Paper Airplanes
I’d sooner fold airplanes than hummingbirds, crisp-crease the fuselage, blunt the nose for mass and pulling, right tension the wing for a bit curl and lift, turn up the rudder…
Sweet and Bitter Greens 