Riding the Slipstream



A rudimentary craft

this dragon made of dreams

powered by liquid hope

and clever fools.

Kissing the clouds in a teenage fumble,

sporadic tufts of air sticking to its wings….

There is a trembling sort of certainty


a nebulous offering

to the gods of the sky

to the eagle me

that soars below, riding the slipstreams….


a bright heart

lit by a flashing emerald wish

to touch down again soon!




32 thoughts on “Riding the Slipstream”

  1. This is so very scrumptious. The tufts of air sticking to wings and the clever fools. Every last word of it. And the painting. This is officially your “swirl period”…hehe. Someday, I will hang some of your swirls on my wall.


  2. “Kissing the clouds in a teenage fumble”

    Oh such evocative use of imagines and ideas to create a poem that resonants within my own memories and dreams of hope. I would soar but do I trust the winds?


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