Friday, November 11, 2011

Air Travel: 1


Chapter 1

A boat stood on end, bow pointed at the sky.

Of course, this is how it gets around, cast off

the line from the oak tree it leans against

and up it goes.

Chapter 2

The man who rows rides it like a rocket,

vertical at first, then, past the electric wires

and above the rooftops, he levels off,

scooping the oars hard into the air.

Chapter 3

Now he can look down peacefully

on the backyards and streets and trees.

Chapter 4

It all depends on what you’re looking for.

This early morning, an old aluminum sky

before the sun shines, he rows to the sea

to go fishing.

Chapter 5

Following the road fifty feet below

it flows leading the way. The oarlocks

creak with each pull. A rooster crows

a few blocks away.

Chapter 6

Oh, sometimes he stops rowing

lets the boat drift. There’s no hurry,

holding the oars out flat like wings

nailed to a wooden bird.

Chapter 7

A chestnut tree brushes its leaves

along the smooth planks underneath,

a sigh as hushing as a seaweed bed.

to be continued...

1 comment:

  1. Somehow, this story is about the end of our times. The man in the boat is surveying all that is below, as that scape slowly fills over and sinks away. Beautiful lines and language.