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Jet

Rating: 2.9

Sometimes I wish I were still out
on the back porch, drinking jet fuel
with the boys, getting louder and louder
as the empty cans drop out of our paws
like booster rockets falling back to Earth

and we soar up into the summer stars.
Summer. The big sky river rushes overhead,
bearing asteroids and mist, blind fish
and old space suits with skeletons inside.

On Earth, men celebrate their hairiness,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
bill grace 30 October 2020

A very very very good poem.

0 0 Reply
Paresh Chakra 12 December 2018

and it is good, a way of letting life out of the box, uncapping the bottle to let the effervescence gush through the narrow, usually constricted neck. This stanga is very amazing

0 0 Reply
Brian Jani 22 June 2014

Good job, this poem.is enjoyable and is rich in vocabulary

1 0 Reply
Patricia Gale 05 March 2006

Nicely written. Words that flowed Patricia

2 0 Reply
Tony Jennett 29 November 2005

There's a lot under the surface of your poems. I like them all although I'm more an iambic pentameter man myself. I rhyme all the time and use assonance once or twice a year Let's have more

2 1 Reply

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