An Exhibition that Leaks 

To Be Destroyed, competition entry

“I’m drowning here, and you’re trying to describe the water.” (*)

 

What’s good of a lighthouse, when its lens is of Carrara marble?

 

What useless a place could be, turning staircase into bookshelves?

 

When men drift to its shore, they could not climb. 

 

Panting, they see stained waterline telling lies of the present.

 

 

They crush leather-bounds into corners,

 

Breaking walls, leaking water.

 

Ink smudges into language of the street.

* (As Good as It Gets, 1997)