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)