your own planet

the poetry of dr zen

Thursday, February 16, 1995

Nothing no longer

Leaves are coming down
a car goes by
I am the last swallow summer left
a cloud in the sky

In the street outside
someone is singing
a car is burning
someone has died.

I wish I could have told you
I wish I had known
If wishes were wings
I would have flown

You have chained me
enslaved me
I became what you made me
You had no claim on me

Leaves are falling down
pile up on rainsoaked ground
There isn't a sound
There isn't a sound

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