Saturday, September 26, 2009


Andy Goldsworthy The Storm King Wall (U.K. 1998)

The presses go through the night, mating:
Literature theses--
None of them even rhyme, make any sense.
And that cacophonous sound!
We come up
With pamphlets to combat the din,
But those naugahyde vinyl spines they bind them in
And the barricades of white light through which they force the adherent...
None of them--not one is St. Peter,
An upper-level representative...

...some nobody!

None of them are confident enough to employ a hush
With that altruism so adherent to the sight of clouds
At eye level.

And that sound. They're multiplying.

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