Demolished buildings



Demolished buildings, where we spent a little time;
walls whose windows led our sight; we don't know
how they came to be, or when they first were lost to us,
but some small thing about them comes again, towards
the edge of sleep, as though they held a spectral eminence,
their meaning changed, now back they stare, implore the stance
upon their vanished floor, the level sight across a city roofed
to hazy distance in the heat, the sun below the solid sill,
the half-pulled sash against the tower of the anvil cloud:
the stone-dark walls of sky: and the darting imprint
of the cord-and-acorn of the blind across the wall.

In the end, the world's like this;
behind the back the stones begin to fall;
the thing which casts the shadows now
has forms you would no longer know.

 

 

 

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Language in a Narrow Place