The Art of Flight



The Art of Flight

What wings accumulate is not air
but space, an exemplar

of restraint defied. I listen
and hear feathers

ruffling in the shadows,
a vibration that swells

until it becomes flight or
regret, the retrieval of our

bodies from this dream of ascent.
The art of flight is one of

disturbance, of angles and lift
and touching what can’t be seen.

What we hold carries no meaning.
The beauty lies in the gathering.




I wrote this piece in the mid-80s, and posted it here in 2015. I’d forgotten about it, until I found the original moldering in a box of old papers. It’s okay, for an artifact from another life…

8 thoughts on “The Art of Flight

  1. What I love about your “finds” is that they’re often timeless – and I found myself thinking of this as an ars poetica, the art of flight as the art of poetry. Love it!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. From your past, but relevant to a lot of Nows …
    “What we hold carries no meaning. / The beauty lies in the gathering.” feels like a universal truth put into plain English.
    And perhaps beyond initial gathering, beauty emerges in sorting/thinning of the previously-gathered?

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Pingback: The Art of Flight — O at the Edges | Perth Words... exploring possibilities.

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