"We hide behind sheets of words and sometimes find comfort on wearing them proudly. I have unbowed my bloody head with the things I have killed and revered what I have immortalized. I will continue to shield, maim, murder, pine, ponder and slave over the very words that force itself out of my body but leave its hand clutched on my still beating heart."

-Darrel Pobre

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Deplaning


Deplaning is  a complex thing
there are seat belts to be worried about
and postures and tray tables
the glaring light from a dizzying
view of the sky outside
the shake and sound of being
suddenly jolted up and down the ground

your stomach  between your ears
and your throat is a puddle 
begging to be hurled in a bag
incessant blinking and beeping
and some voice announcing minutes
left before you're arrival.

Overhead bins silently tuck away baggages
with no complaints, hidden seamlessly
to appear to be part of a well-designed ceiling
pretending that gravity will grow tired
of looking for them.

Somewhere between land and air
is pressure, a hum that cannot be numbed.
We breathe, and pop and yawn our way out of
it, as if it can be reasoned to stay away.

We are given guides to read,
warnings to safety, manuals to exit
only to find ourselves relentlessly falling

There are far more criminal offenses 
than bringing a life vest home

Sept 18 2011


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