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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