High Iron
–for E.A.
At a hundred fifty feet, I’m comfortable as in a living room chair. Then it gets harder—the world shrinking to a map gaped at from an airplane window; the girder’s shadow a wing. The wind shrieks, as turbulent as a god, more playful than angry. Like my father’s ghost, stepping across the frame behind me in his red high-top Chuck Taylors, long gray hair streaming.
how narrow the beam
that holds our firmament
in place
August 8th, 2013 at 3:17 pm
Nice length for a haibun. It holds the interest right through and invites you to reread it. I like it very much.
August 8th, 2013 at 5:30 pm
That's great right there.
August 8th, 2013 at 7:01 pm
One of the most complete poems I have ever read. It sizes up life and beyond astutely
August 8th, 2013 at 7:48 pm
Very nice.
August 8th, 2013 at 8:12 pm
Not sure I totally understand, but my heart does. Must be the red high tops. lovely work.
August 9th, 2013 at 7:46 am
This has added a couple of years to my bones. Very lovely. Thank you.
August 9th, 2013 at 9:07 am
seeing my hometown
framed by an airplane window…
sweating the small stuff
August 9th, 2013 at 1:18 pm
Thank you for your kind responses to my first published haibun, "High Iron." Regards, Angele Ellis
August 12th, 2013 at 9:03 am
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August 13th, 2013 at 7:40 am
Interesting. I got a real sense of rising, slowly at first, then faster and faster until I was right out into the vastness of the universe.
August 16th, 2013 at 12:56 pm
I like this one a lot.