Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Saturday, June 2, 2007


i dreamt about this time
i flew in an airplane above greenland
between la guardia and frankfurt

the pilot came on and told us to look far below
greenland is neither grass green nor glacier white
it’s black, in fact, that late at night
i couldn’t tell greenland apart from the ocean
in that plane, miles over the water
or ice sheets?
whatever it was,
it might as well be black, cloudy sky

then, because this was also a dream,
we’re upside-down
and i’m looking down at the night mouth of heaven
we’re in space, flying too high, all spun around
broken circuits
lunatic pilots

when the sun rises, we’ll see
the moon
a white wasteland, curving out to a black horizon
like greenland

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