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.