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26 November 2014

an unread letter

24A going north:
race me, clouds.
I'm waiting with strangers,
our days numbered
in alphanumerics.
We are shadows
in our seats
held in relief
until our feet touch down again.



This poem was inspired by the imaginary garden, Robert Plant, Alison Krauss, an unread letter, and the real toad from seat 24A, flying north, who gave us a word list:

fly, race, skew, waiting, strangers, clouds, dirt, shadows, horizon, contour, relief, scale

9 comments:

  1. Air travel really does seem to turn one to a shadow, a thing being shot through a tube from one city to another, and there to reconstitute. Bob Seger felt like a number, and you have worked numerics in nicely here, too.

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  2. Shadows waiting with strangers staring at alphanumerics- yep, just about right.

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  3. An excellent abstract picture of flying which could be a metaphor for life.

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  4. nice :) safe travels!

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  5. This is really cool!

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  6. masculine style, very different for you, interesting

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  7. Love this .....

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  8. very cool. you've captured the essence. thanks for adding your voice ~ M

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  9. It feels like swimming in clouds... at very high speed, but without moving.

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