The sound of a
Huey
the tick of
a clock
Both signal
a warning
what is and
what’s not
The flight from
DaNang
that hour till
dawn
Your life in
the balance
to die or
hang on
And leave for
the bush
face painted
and dark
Second hand
motion
that tells you
to start
As medics
unload
both the wounded
and dead
The rotors
keep spinning
these moments
— of dread
(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)
Memories
First Platoon boards the Huey, sickly smell of sweat and death
elbow to elbow we sit cramped in the narrow compartment
hot, sticky air like a sauna grips us in its wet claws
rotors spin, air rushes through the open doors
but no relief is felt from the hot, breath of the dragon
gnawing fear grips each man as the bird lifts off
taking us to places we don’t want to go
the green canopy is now below us concealing them but not us
we land at the LZ, bullets snapping and popping as we emerge
the encounter is short, bloody, cries of wounded, silence of dead
First Platoon boards the Huey, sickly smell of sweat and death
gnawing fear grips each man as the bird lifts off
are we headed back to the firebase, home, safety from the fire
safety from the fear and death and sweat
Hueys flying the wrong way, new orders issued
on to the next hot LZ more fear death and sweat
Alone and cold,
Hurt bleeding,
Clothes of blood,
Touching, pressure, pain,
Looking,
Finding,
Dressing Pressure, tight,
Pain moaning hurt,
Stay awake,
Hearing noises shh be quiet,
Breathing slow, fear, scared,
Falling falling,
No sleep no sleep,
Stay awake,
Noises crawling on ground,
Hearing whispering Sarge,
Here here,
They're on the way,
Stick you for pain,
Ok good good,
Blinding light, noises, wind, rotors,
My bird of freedom,
Rushing Rushing,
Lifting lifting to the sky,
It's gonna be ok Sarge,
It's over, we're all going home.
Smiling thinking, home, freedom, family.
My bird lifts us to the sky taking us away.
My bird,
My protector, takes us home.
A HOT LZ AT NIGHT
Rotors swimming in the air,
my feet towards the skids;
flying fast in darkness.
Pack tight against my body,
one hand for the bird,
one hand for the rifle.
Tracers lazily float upward
feeling the sky for prey,
our sound their only target.
These deadly green fireflies,
green streaks when they pass,
silent in our windy passage.
Darkness hides the bird
from these crisscrossing tracers
hungrily searching our sound.
Charles also has this darkness
and he will use it to catch us
if we can’t quickly slip away.
In this game of hide and seek
to be tagged by the enemy
is a touch of deadly force.
The bird rocks and rotors flair
signalling a leap from the skids;
feet to hit dark unfriendly ground
The darkness our only sanction,
the unseen ground our uncertainty,
unless we can run fast and far.
If they sit quietly and hold the LZ
green tracers will blossom brightly
their sudden much unwanted welcome.
If hit the bird may never lift away
our option stay with the crew;
all this makes for a short patrol.
I often live this nightly madness,
watching buoyantly rising tracers,
playing the odds in our year of fate.
Rotors spinning
Desentigration
Gods kingdom
Deceptive revelation
Lies built - unto the throne
Living without guilt
Dying all alone.
Callaper grinds
Whatever she finds
Like god throwing stones
Brakes are broke
No chance to show
Vehicle now disabled
Watching us go.
~END~
February 22nd, 2008
explanation:
this is dedicated to my sharp bud Christopher T. we hung out all day and tried to change the brakes on his van. Inspiration hit me with 3 short poems I'm posting. It was a good day and I had a lot more fun then anyone else. Including you ::points out of screen:: what did you do that day? Didn't hang with us, well,
that's too bad.
sorry, charlie!
Churlish wind hovers overhead
Ready to chart its path of dread
By wistful, listless conductor led
Twirling baton with rotors fed
A swirling blender over land spread
Careening, eerie echo left in its stead
Fluffing the threads of barren bed
Wispy fibers in ginning whirlpool sped
Silty granules from denuded top shred
Strafing the strands of every bare head
What if I were to lie?
What, if I were lye?
Don't you look at me that way.
Don't you look away!
The blond hairs on your back
I know it's cold.
Where are you going with this?
Wherever you are told.
Dance now, it's a stage.
The machine rotors turn.
The cabinets stocked with capitalism.
My Beautiful Idiosyncrasies.
Turbine whistling
Wait...
Until all is green
Time to go
That familiar quickening
Of a heart
Trained in the art of war
To do battle
Rotors spinning
Left and right...
The tech calls
Clear!
Progressive collective
Rising high
In to the sunlight
Time to target
Five minutes
That familiar quickerning
Switches, set
Terrs, visual!
Lynxes, marking with frantan
Left hand orbit
Time to go...
Heave of cyclic
Nose up
Shudder
Bleeding off speed
Safeties , off
You hear the snap and click
In a cloud of dust
A fireforce deplaned
For needs must...
Terrs, visual
Max power,
collective to full
Building speed
Skimming trees
Tech, observing
They're running!
Brownings chatter
The cordite smell
The enemy scatter
Watching the fuel
Adjusting throat mike
Ten minutes to bingo
Orbitting
Hearing the battle on the ground
Time to go...
In dusty skies
K-cars and G-cars flew
Skimming across the bush
Purposeful dragonflies
Trained in the art of war
To fight anywhere
That familiar quickening
Turbine whistled
Wait...
Until all is green
Time to go...
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