Poems Niederngasse

Noel Smith
Air Head

My mind soars.  It swoops and darts
like a chimney swallow going oops, oops. 
It cannot settle,
not on Christ, Buddha, Mohammed,
not even on The Daily Observer or the car mechanic.
It wafts way out there
over the harbor in its hang gliding rig
watching the pelicans banking in
while the car which carries its gear goes clank, clank.


Noel Smith's poems have appeared in many journals including  Yankee Magazine, West Branch, New Letters and Shenandoah.  Her manuscript, Twisting Sourwood  was a finalist for Tupelo Press' Fifth Annual First Book Prize.  She has been nominated three times for a Pushcart prize. She lives in Pomona, NY.  email:  Noel Smith