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Wright Brothers Poem |
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Kittyhawk, December 1903
A cup of carefully filtered gasoline drove
their wings against the flat wind that
made the Outer Banks a wreckers' coast. Its
fumes dispersed across the dunes before
the telegraph could report the flight to
a curiously un-hearing world. They'd
still fully to master the air, –
just revealed the transparent fringe storm-birds
flying ahead of a tempest. The
brothers struck camp for Christmas back
in Dayton Ohio, with the Bishop the
sister and, at last, their grail. Full
conquest took a few more years chasing
the invisible around Huffman Prairie learning
to control their Flyer. Then
patent fights, manufacturing rights refinement,
disclosure, military sales. The tempest wrote long lines across the sky.
Courtesy of Noel Whittall October 2002
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