writing poems while flying, often crying, listening to sentimental music, pathos of arrival suffusing the pathos of departure: a winning - and liminal - combination
Your words and images evoke memories of many different flights for me. The extreme flatness of the winter prairie while flying to Toronto.
Flying northeast to Denmark from Vancouver through a long, seemingly endless sunrise- standing in the rear of the plane to stretch, riveted by the topography and the clear light.
The excitement of watching the tiny single rural nighttime lights coalesce into the bright splash of Manhattan and the surrounding Burroughs.
writing poems while flying, often crying, listening to sentimental music, pathos of arrival suffusing the pathos of departure: a winning - and liminal - combination
Your words and images evoke memories of many different flights for me. The extreme flatness of the winter prairie while flying to Toronto.
Flying northeast to Denmark from Vancouver through a long, seemingly endless sunrise- standing in the rear of the plane to stretch, riveted by the topography and the clear light.
The excitement of watching the tiny single rural nighttime lights coalesce into the bright splash of Manhattan and the surrounding Burroughs.
Thanks. I look forward to Tuesday mornings.