Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Capital
When a plane flies
over the river
I always imagine
that you are on it
not even looking
down to see
if you could see
me, like an ant,
lifting a leaf
over my head.
You are always
flying around
on a great bird
and I am always
moving through
a graveyard of trees--
my leaf
pointing at the heavens.
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