after Donald Judd
In an exhibit in San Francisco
There is a stack of blocks
Previously owned
By an overgrown child.
Tucked neatly between them
Are their absences,
Crafted when his last toys
Lined the undifferentiated darkness
Of the chest, and he’s left
Even these behind.
1 comment:
cool picture...it's like a frozen wooden vetebrae (sp?)
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