As Much Help

Stars full of statics and rains,

Sleeps full of sharks

And poison-bomb planes;

The frames as much help as the door,

When the test leaves scar marks

And your soul’s face is pressed to the floor

And you’re still going down.

Every straight’s a corner

Every down is always up a hill.

The one you picked won’t

Everybody else’s will.

The Thing About Planes …




The thing about planes

Is they’re too jet fast;

It’s translation,


Missing miles

Between passport heartbeats.

No time

Between departures

And destinations.

Blink once, twice;

It’s done, and

There’s no going back.

It’s gone,

People left

Far apart: Continue reading