He stood beneath the white tower, and looked up at it with that mournful expression which his face always carried in repose: for one moment he thought of climbing up its cracked and broken stone, and then from its summit screaming down at the silent city as a child might scream at a chained animal.
“Voilà la Plaza and an array of vertical ties
Uh-oh Bomb-squad vans parked outside
I feel renegade and clairvoyant
amidst the secret securities
with doodads in their ears
Maybe it’s the President again
outside the St. Moritz
I pause at the lovely liatus
The sweet autumn clematis”
Maggie Nelson | “Carnegie Hall”