Aero-metre / Robert McAlmon

Aero-metre


In pale spaciousness I blend with subtle infinity. The wing wires of my plane Whistle a monotone That lulls my earthy unrest To sleep. The faint blur before me Of whirring propellers Soothes my eyes. I have no objective. The sky is bare; The here and there Have equal values. There is no ultimate to strive for— Only higher air. Thinner and more fair. My plane sees a star to vault, But tediously pendulates In measured expansion Far below.