Flight

[danny_]

this is really nice, milo. so many senses, vivid and present writing.

It is the lie of birds - that you need wings, i'm not sure you should mention this 'lie', unless you want to tie it in again at the end, perhaps. you sort of did with 'and fly', actually, as that really ties it off with the fact one can fly despite this lie. but.. maybe consider the opening emphasis you made with this lie and then kind of left it after that.
the lie of time that gravity
brings you to the ground, presses
like a pillow against your face;
soft, unbreakable. it's probably just me, but i'm not sure why this lie of gravity has the positive aspects of being soft like a pillow, when this poem really just wants to fly.

The clouds of summer call
like cold salt-cream, but wait - not sure why but i like that cold salt-cream, really works for me. not sure about this dashes
till autumn forms
as long striated runways in the sky, nice vision of those clouds that run in lines
then climb

higher than the the jealous, root-bound
trees can stretch their branches,
hooked and bare like knuckled grasps.
Go to where the cliffs tower, all of this stuff is good but the "go to" now is a little stumbling for me. maybe just needs a little clarity.
where the sea crashes far below and mists
up in a howl of billows, the pale blue
of a loose night shirt.

Link arms and dive
upwards till the sound of surf,
breaking bones on rocks,
dissolves in white-noise static. maybe just white-noise, no static.
Twist through the clouds
in their spectre-gray grave linens maybe just spectre-gray linens, as spectre already indicates the dead
to where the oxygen is rare
spun candy on your tongue, interesting... a stretch, almost odd, but i can sense how sweet the scarce oxygen may be
cast off earth-heavy thoughts,
close your eyes
and fly.

fun read, thank you, i've only done my best from my limited poetic experience to critique, but those are my honest reflections.