Topic Tags:
0 Comments

Dash 8 from Armidale

Ivan Head

Jun 01 2013

0 mins

At nineteen thousand feet

The propeller is 2 metres of

Continuous diaphanous blade,

A thin curtain of spin slicing the air,

There’s a blur at the tip where

Contrary paint hints at a solid

Fugal edge, the fleeing, flight edge.

It would not warn a bird.

Held by the engineered centre

By its core and cone.
This centre can hold,
This gyre not fly off.

The propeller lives by refinement

And human purposes.

They are not replaced by the jet.

While it looks like nothing’s there

“Beware, beware.” The cutting air.

Ivan Head

Comments

Join the Conversation

Already a member?

What to read next

  • Ukraine and Russia, it Isn’t Our Fight

    Many will disagree, but World War III is too great a risk to run by involving ourselves in a distant border conflict

    Sep 25 2024

    5 mins

  • Aboriginal Culture is Young, Not Ancient

    To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case

    Aug 20 2024

    23 mins

  • Pennies for the Shark

    A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten

    Aug 16 2024

    2 mins