Dead Poets

call and response

words echo back

after reading you

sometimes still alive, mostly dead

your cadence in my head

where you live moments, hours

a lifetime, imprinting past a pulse

into the next and the one after that

all of us who try to capture

copy, reclaim your voice and

make it our own

Earth to Airplane

most people don’t look out airplane windows

so focused on iPads, coffee cups, sneezing children, they

forget patches of white snow painted on

mountains below like haphazard cupcake icing

 

stratified sky, hazy wispy air, clouds like rabbit

tails, under deep azure, stretching up towards

celestial abyss

 

the airline magazine dulls my imagination

pages about a hot dog eating champ, movies, TV shows

between ads for hotels and credit cards, I forget

how we got here

suspended in space sipping club soda

 

lakes look up, see us gleaming

watch our speeding motion

as we travel from

one place to the next

 

unmoved, trees quietly witness our descent

I pull down the shade