Where is the poem
that can carry me?
I want to be useful
as a pulley tied to
a tree on a bluff,
yet delicate as
leaves floating.
Where is the poem
that touches the bottom
of the sea, finds
Atlantis? Stopped
by the albatross,
diverted to Xanadu,
it arrives in time
to see cranes fly off,
papers blowing
in dry wind.