Tuur Verheyde
Anchor to the Flight III

Anchor to the Flight III
Strolling beneath nonstarter storms,
Their sultry slate compressing
The wheezing air, what do we do
When we’re slow-changing?
And the world is rapid and rapacious
Without end?
We start the storm, as brave-ish
Fools, stir the cup with reasoned
Prods. And then, and then, we
Let karma come, to gift us
Disaster and its teachings.