Aloft – Greg Bell

having taken the controls for two hours
(What!? Oh, no, I never. But I did… How
could I resist?)
Hear the hum, feel the grace of this machine
this offspring of combustion and
calipered imaginings
ride the bubbling currents of the air
(just a little light chop, they say
in aeronautics)

Scrub desert beneath is everywhere
dry as tinder in the growing drought

And big air
that is the all the everything and the nothing
between us and terra firma
3,000 feet below

Exercise in paradox
passing glimpse of      the ineffable
as mortal flesh hangs
dangling by                 a sky-hook

Greg Bell has been writing poetry all his life as a matter of necessity. He’s  author of Looking for Will: My Bardic Quest with Shakespeare  and two plays, Alms for Oblivion& Polestar, both of which have received awards. He now facilitates the Green Poets Workshop at Beyond Baroque in Venice, CA. Says he “We are the witnesses, the Jiminy Crickets, the agents of change, and we have a deal of work to do!” Recent publications include First Literary Review East and Wordgathering.

5 thoughts on “Aloft – Greg Bell

  1. Beautifully evocative of:
    High Flight

    John Gillespie Magee, Jr
    Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
    And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
    Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
    Of sun-split clouds, –and done a hundred things
    You have not dreamed of –Wheeled and soared and swung
    High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
    I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
    My eager craft through footless halls of air…
    Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
    I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
    Where never lark or even eagle flew —
    And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
    The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
    Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.


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