I travel to the heavens…


…as I was trying to tell you

the other day.


I hold myself in

at the kitchen table


press skin cells smooth

and then see a clear bag


form around me

open on top


so force myself sleeker,

hold in even my chin,


and when I feel myself



raise my hands over my head

elbows locked, fingers together,


poke them through the opening,

feel my body begin to rise


then slip through the bag

and suddenly look


down on the table

from the ceiling,


then down on the roof

from the clouds,


and then down on earth

from the heavens.


I’d tell you more

but shouldn’t, really.


No angels there flapping

their wings, you know.


I have seen dead

mothers and fathers


and dogs that bark



I am telling you

don’t ever try this.


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I've been writing mostly poetry for many years and have gotten a number of works accepted in publications and anthologies. I'm most interested in communicating with poets for whom craft is a high priority. I enjoy finding and commenting on poetic gems in other people's work. For my own work, I welcome polite comments, whether positive or critical.

6 thoughts on “I travel to the heavens…”

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