On the Counter-Intuitive Nature of Collision of 9/11

That grace was some incongruous cartoon

Where lumbar flame and melt and mould, as if

Droop bimetallic broke not sweat nor stiff,

Strong limber, and warped not its cold cocoon.

 

With model rend, not jigsaw nor balloon,

And graded dive, and blend and bled flame swift,

And seemed to slide and liquid through sieve sift,

It leered and led through lead its nameless wound.

 

In rejection of Simon Armitage’s “The Convergence of the Twain”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s