Kittinger, 19 Miles Up
Above breath, and much above bird,
you know the last safe moment for Icarus,
you know a god-look,
in a moment you will be untied.
Hubris, what a Babel you are.
so close you could stretch
your hand, rake the void.
There is no horizon,
the blue leaks into the deep
like a flat world,
water pouring out.
When you leap you feel the tug of the moon…
and then zero.
A featherbed coma sense.
Your clothes do not flap,
your parachute copilots,
limp as a bed blanket.
A without, anomie of sense,
a touchless yawning unplace.
You ride a radiowave down
back to the beginning of a song.
If you pull this pressure suit loose,
you’ll taste no air,
your lungs would suck an empty teat.
Every liquid you own
would boil out in an instant.
Your insides would expand to the eighth power,
choke your airway, rush out every door.
But you’d never feel it.
Your mind would spare you that.
You’ll hit the ground like a god,
hard enough to bury you.
I'm just commenting to make sure that you know that we read your poems. Love you.
ReplyDeleteOh, snap. You're a fan. How about that? I think you should write more on your blog, Candace. You're a great writer, I know you don't have tons of time but it'd be a great place to hone your skills.
ReplyDeleteI was sitting in the english department office and picked up an old Outlet to thumb through. I read "Expiration Dates." It's amazing to see how far you've come since then. Not that it's not a good poem, I loved it. But your poetry now is so much more focused and sophisticated. It gives me hope that my lame stories that I am writing today will someday be better if I keep working.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Steven. That means a lot to me. It's good to have an outside perspective of my progression. Because half the time it feels like you're writing the same old crap. Thanks, dude. I'm excited you'll be attending an MFA program, too. I love mine. Let me know when you need help applying and where to go. I have a much better perspective and I'm familiar with a lot more poets.
ReplyDeleteNicely executed free fall. I was absolutely lacking oxygen the entire read. Ditto, Steven. And weird as it may seem, every time I open your page I grab the nearest person that I can find and say, "This is James Best's work. Sometime in the future you'll remember that I was the first person to introduce you to him." And then I feel oddly triumphant.
ReplyDeleteI love the line about riding a radio wave to the beginning of a song. That would be so cool to hear the song play in reverse as you fell, like going back in time.
ReplyDelete