The campus is deserted as my bicycle
glide-rattles across the new formed paths
curving between brown lawns
and old buildings, declaring human ascendancy
over earth. This stone carved proclamation
means nothing to the trees that guard
their landscaped space. They grow as they have always grown,
tall. And the wonders of man’s civilized self
seem no more certain than
the little machine that carries me precariously
across their grounds.
1 comment:
what happened to the old poems?
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