Hot Air

It could have been a flight of crims

But boldness beat the Monarch’s whims

And saw a Marquis in the air

With valiant de Rozier.

The Laws of Physics hold this gift;

When things get heated, we get lift.

Crowds hotting up.  They’re on the rise.

The Social Aviator’s prize

Comes at a price.  Agitations

Create distance.  Atoms.  Nations.

So are we Men or molecules?

Perhaps we’re both.  Perhaps we’re fools.

Perhaps we shouldn’t aim too high –

Look up, not down, from that Big Sky?

We could try sideways and sustain

Another’s loss as our own pain,

So on our journey we might see

The sight worth seeing:  You as Me.

Black Triangle

Anarchist arrow. Pointing down. 
An hourglass frame contains 
My Muse. Perhaps 

Pythagoras would 
Frown to ponder 

Her hypo
Ten

Use

H5

So long, John

Whose tick lives on

How far we’ve gone

Past old London

How long, John?

Tick tock and gone

So far, so long

Long done, London

Long done, John

The sea was strong

Still time ticked on

And gone is long

John, watch long

The Harris son

Wind up and on

Your hour is gone