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my poetry plane is lost in an ocean of tangents

June 8, 2009

amelia red busI’m working on a few things right now (yes, this is code for procrastinating on the manuscript). One of them is a poem for my response to my own Read Write Prompt — “Kiss Me, Amelia Earhart” (over at Read Write Poem, of course).

I have a passion for research. Not the meticulous kind. Not the building-a-case-for (or against) something kind. But the one-thing-leading-to-another kind. It’s an adventure. And with the beautiful, wonderful, convenient and ever-so addicting internet, research fixes are easy to come by.

At the moment, I am off on an Amelia Earhart tangent, and my poetry plane is lost somewhere over at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum which houses Earhart’s “Red Bus” (Yes, Jill, red, a red poem candidate perhaps!), a Lockheed 5B Vega, in its Pioneers of Flight Gallery.

Right before I got lost, I was listening to “Amelia,” a Joni Mitchell song. Here are a couple of verses:

A ghost of aviation
She was swallowed by the sky
Or by the sea, like me she had a dream to fly
Like icarus ascending
On beautiful foolish arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm

Maybe Ive never really loved
I guess that is the truth
Ive spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitude
And looking down on everything
I crashed into his arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm

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