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White Knuckles

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From the Journal of E.C.C.

 

Roar Roar Roar

Roar Bumpy Bumpy

Roar Roar Roar

O.K.

Lift

Tilt up

O.K.

Roar Wobble

Roar Up Up

Beautiful

Roar Roar.

I can see far

far far.

O.K. O.K.

Low hazy.

Climbing.

Steady roar

climbing

O.K. O.K.

cruising altitude.

Smooth and steady.

I’m untethered

And airborne

O.K. O.K.

Comments (4)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Awesome piece. I don't know why but it just got to me, and that's how it should be. Bravo.

a
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Thanks, but I can't actually claim authorship for this. I've been transcribing the journals of a friend who passed away last year (see the post "Physics"). She was not a good flyer and this was literally what she wrote while taking off one...

Thanks, but I can't actually claim authorship for this. I've been transcribing the journals of a friend who passed away last year (see the post "Physics"). She was not a good flyer and this was literally what she wrote while taking off one morning. When I read it, it struck me as I assume it struck you, very authentic in its sense of anxiety, anticipation and relief. I just edited it a bit, added a word or two, and formatted it to make sense as a poem. So, she deserves the proper credit, hence the heading.

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ugwerks
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

My condolences. This poem is priceless in its simplicity, and it oozes the essence of phobic. If you could just convince yourself its all going to be okay...

a
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Thanks. I'll pass your compliments along to her...someday when see her again.

ugwerks
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