The Decree of a Flyer
dedicated to Irving Layton
And me, a poet,
happiest when I compose poems:
No Irving, happiest when I fly.
No Irving, happiest when I fly.
To
be extended into a machine, and to be all
that
it does and the doer of that,
I
am then responsible for fate.
Holding
tight to control, to feel the flesh and plastic
as
a connection within a body,
To
sense through wings like nerves,
Like
arms outstretching an earthly heaven—
All
that can be felt.
Alive
in weight and lighter than air,
I
fight to go higher,
To
span the world on spread wings—a god.
To
open the clouds, to tumble and bounce,
To
pulsate with life, with love of flight.
Not
here I am to mock the eagle,
For
I am greater—the eagle must mock me.
Full
with no jealousy, I see it is me,
The
eagle should rave with defeat—I am endless.
I
am endless, for now I have become a new life,
An
evolved man capable of flight.
A
breed that will devour this earth, this universe,
With
a will to be airborne, to be machined to perfection:
To walk tall,
To fly taller,
To kick God in the ass!
