I, in the stretched time
of very early mornings,
have built myself
a tower of papers
filled with words and phrases
each building
a house,
a temple,
a fortress for a poem,
something like Howard Roark
might have built
only made of new materials,
built of poetry.
Some of the buildings
were bitter and black granite
others were smooth marble.
They are small, clean buildings
but I am wishing for something more
for a world of skyscraper poetry
and for that, I could use your assistance.

03/25/2002