Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Where Now the Empire Stands?


Before chartered ships landed,
What was New York?

An island, cold with trees
And naked rocks?

Were rolling hills flattened
By dense concrete slabs,

And how did the air taste
In each gently retained breath?

Sweet, like deciduous maple-drip
And gentle water briskly running from

Gathered raindrop-reserve,
Where now the Empire stands?

Were shepherds singing only for
The audience of their echoes?

And did time exist?
Oh Time, because if you did,
How much younger you must have been.

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