You're not a pilot unless you fly.
on the console exactly
as at Long Beach
when he came on board
wearing the Lucky Fedora.
The blue hydraulic levers
were prominent
as in the photographs
and dead for all time
as levers on an antique
Coca Cola vending machine.
The eight throttles asked
to be pushed as he pushed them
at Long Beach bringing
the eight "corn cob" Wasps
to full power
on the taxi test.
I pushed the throttle bank
forward as the four bladed props
stood still and drew back
on the yoke to become
acquainted with my plane.
I would fly this bird
given a chance.
The brutal words fell on me
as the lumber of an insult,
"When you're ready, say 'now'."
Howard turned to the flight engineer.
"Give me 15% down flaps."
It was time to fly.
The Wasps were roaring.
The Goose assailed nasty waves
with 28,000 horsepower
becoming lighter in her element
and wth a flap of her wings
she took off
as a confident condor.
The Spruce Goose was flying!
Howard was startled.
He pulled back the throttles
then pushed them forward
as at the controls he became
acquainted with his plane.
I lifted the Lucky Fedora
off the hydraulic console
and put it on, adjusting the brim
to a slant across my brow.
It was time to fly.
I turned as if to speak
to the flight engineer
and said, "Now."
The camera bulb splashed light
upon the madness, the genius,
the mischief of Howard Hughes.
pjk
Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 591 times
Written on 2011-02-22 at 16:51
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A Time to Fly
The jungle of dials loomedon the console exactly
as at Long Beach
when he came on board
wearing the Lucky Fedora.
The blue hydraulic levers
were prominent
as in the photographs
and dead for all time
as levers on an antique
Coca Cola vending machine.
The eight throttles asked
to be pushed as he pushed them
at Long Beach bringing
the eight "corn cob" Wasps
to full power
on the taxi test.
I pushed the throttle bank
forward as the four bladed props
stood still and drew back
on the yoke to become
acquainted with my plane.
I would fly this bird
given a chance.
The brutal words fell on me
as the lumber of an insult,
"When you're ready, say 'now'."
Howard turned to the flight engineer.
"Give me 15% down flaps."
It was time to fly.
The Wasps were roaring.
The Goose assailed nasty waves
with 28,000 horsepower
becoming lighter in her element
and wth a flap of her wings
she took off
as a confident condor.
The Spruce Goose was flying!
Howard was startled.
He pulled back the throttles
then pushed them forward
as at the controls he became
acquainted with his plane.
I lifted the Lucky Fedora
off the hydraulic console
and put it on, adjusting the brim
to a slant across my brow.
It was time to fly.
I turned as if to speak
to the flight engineer
and said, "Now."
The camera bulb splashed light
upon the madness, the genius,
the mischief of Howard Hughes.
pjk
Poetry by Peter J. Kautsky
Read 591 times
Written on 2011-02-22 at 16:51
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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