it’s been 40 years or 4

and I haven’t cracked it yet

even though I’ve risen and fallen

a hundred hundred times

even though I’ve tasted each

possibility that’s come along

a gun

will do it

weed with the boys

all of us crammed in the car

sailing the road from town

to the city or the lake

barely far enough

to leave pavement and catch air

when we’re caught

beaten down by fathers

for those who have them

by my brother too small

for daddy’s boots

too big for his own britches

knocking me down

to a size less than my wingspan

some other stick he measures is measured by

not the smartest but the banker’s son

from the pen where money milled and mooed

where land was loaned for and foreclosed on

try pills try pills and beer

try pills and liquor try pills and

liquor and all of us

in the car again only

we need a longer highway

for the launch

try harder

when that doesn’t do it

anymore

a gun

in the woods

will do it

study to build what towers

above these fields

of hay and calves

of always in the weather’s palm

always under mama’s thumb

a gun

in the woods

on a deer season morning

will send the spirit up out

while the body

the family

stay grounded

try cockpit altimeters gages

try wing flaps throttle runway

try climb cruise stall spin a gun

will send the spirit up out

the woods on a deer season morning might do it

try landing

try land