Poem: ‘How to Pull a Building Down’
Peter Spagnuolo, 27 August 2015
Do nothing, and it’s demolition in slow-mo – roof-drains clog, pitches sag, standing water collects trapping blown dirt off sun-parched ball-fields, silting the pond’s edge to shape a pocket-bog, like you find in remotest alpine meadows at summer’s end. Dark algae blushes fructify in sunlight, mosquitoes range at dusk where small birds dip a wing, the soupish mess an...