04-26-2017, 11:38 PM
I fall into a trance, a state,
a heightened (higher?) sense of being,
write broken words with broken pen
that quivers like a living thing.
(Twice broken...bones? Change word "thing".)
The hum behind me comforts
by its power and disposition.
No nervousness or doubts
but sureness, constancy.
Writing is not easy here,
there is no where to hide (stow?)away.
It’s better when the sun is high
(above? “It” is unrelated. Define.)
What if when at last I land
my legs should buckle into me,
and thrust up through my groin?
When I land. When I land, no if.
We shuffle (sternly?) back,
we three who dare,
the gaping door is pristine bright
with rushing, glowing air;
if that is all I need to do,
one-stand, two-step,three-
(free) fall and through.
Words are coming to me
faster than I speak.
I mean before 10,000 feet,
not before this week.
(I may delete that line,
assuming I'm not dead)
The light is on, glowing red,
I did not see
the hue before…
it is on me.
I am no longer white but rouge;
Is that normal?
White, I mean?
Damn...this paper won't lie still.
Green light, he’s up,
he's through, he’s gone.
A silhouette, a moment long.
Great god above, he did not drop.
Did you see?
Did you see?
He seemed to jerk
off to the left (port?).
Did you see?
I am not sure
that words are
coming out of me.
Red light. Red light.
Red light. Red light.
This pen is all I have to…damn.
Green light, green light.
Gone. He’s gone.
I never saw him
stand, step, fall
Exit left. ( A cliché call)
Seconds now,
I write this so
that I will know
just how I felt.
There is a strange
ear-throbbing pulse,
church organ pipe,
once I shuffle
to the door.
Shuffle.
The line is dragging.
Check the hook.
A glance away, confirming look.
There is the door....
the sky-wide door.
Red light.
Red light.
Red light.
I should say good-bye.
Good bye.
Green light.
Good bye.
tectak
2017
( maybe should be in fun I enjoyed writing it too much)
a heightened (higher?) sense of being,
write broken words with broken pen
that quivers like a living thing.
(Twice broken...bones? Change word "thing".)
The hum behind me comforts
by its power and disposition.
No nervousness or doubts
but sureness, constancy.
Writing is not easy here,
there is no where to hide (stow?)away.
It’s better when the sun is high
(above? “It” is unrelated. Define.)
What if when at last I land
my legs should buckle into me,
and thrust up through my groin?
When I land. When I land, no if.
We shuffle (sternly?) back,
we three who dare,
the gaping door is pristine bright
with rushing, glowing air;
if that is all I need to do,
one-stand, two-step,three-
(free) fall and through.
Words are coming to me
faster than I speak.
I mean before 10,000 feet,
not before this week.
(I may delete that line,
assuming I'm not dead)
The light is on, glowing red,
I did not see
the hue before…
it is on me.
I am no longer white but rouge;
Is that normal?
White, I mean?
Damn...this paper won't lie still.
Green light, he’s up,
he's through, he’s gone.
A silhouette, a moment long.
Great god above, he did not drop.
Did you see?
Did you see?
He seemed to jerk
off to the left (port?).
Did you see?
I am not sure
that words are
coming out of me.
Red light. Red light.
Red light. Red light.
This pen is all I have to…damn.
Green light, green light.
Gone. He’s gone.
I never saw him
stand, step, fall
Exit left. ( A cliché call)
Seconds now,
I write this so
that I will know
just how I felt.
There is a strange
ear-throbbing pulse,
church organ pipe,
once I shuffle
to the door.
Shuffle.
The line is dragging.
Check the hook.
A glance away, confirming look.
There is the door....
the sky-wide door.
Red light.
Red light.
Red light.
I should say good-bye.
Good bye.
Green light.
Good bye.
tectak
2017
( maybe should be in fun I enjoyed writing it too much)