Wednesday, July 1, 2015

A Guy Laramée Poem

I carve landscapes out of books 

and I paint romantic landscapes 

Mountains of disused knowledge 

return to what they really are 


they erode a bit more and they become hills 

Then they flatten and become fields 

where apparently nothing is happening 

Piles of obsolete encyclopedias return to that 

which does not need to say anything 

                                       that which simply is

Fogs and clouds erase everything we know

                          which is everything we think we are.


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