Poetic awareness

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http://%20heatwave50.blogspot.com Sometimes Ifeel as if an image floats

so clear but when Ireach for it, so fast it disapears.The age 18, so innocent, so full of life and lust, so open to new horizons,in all mankind we trust .The summers past so blistfully,the seasons treat you well.My18was none of that story that Itell.In fact it was in retrospect the metaphor for hell.The chopper stopped in mid air as if on a dime.Descended just above the ground we fell out just in time.

The soldier just in front of me dropped so fast so dead,so dead,he never got to close his eyes.The blood streamed from his head.I held his hand.I heard him whisper mom.God, will I leave this hell alive.this hell called Viet nam