by Carmen Mason
The man who loves buildings
Measures earth and stone and firmament
Looks long at scale and space and dominance
He searches for the widest space to set them in, he lets them spread
He worships icons
And sees himself in his imaginings
He fills with fervor and desire ~
Connemara marble, rare straw-colored brick
Become adornments to his own attire.
Soon he gives them all his time
Becomes the edifice, the artifice.
A wise woman
builds instead what she can live within
And if need be, tear down.
My raso:
This poem got birthed after I watched a documentary on Stanford White. It came slowly like the strain of a vague, vague song you heard in a department store weeks ago that won’t give up but sticks in the recess of your skull; you keep humming it and giving it these words that are not lyrics or complete ideas at all and are really rather foreign.
*Raso – when, why or how a writing came to be
Carmen Mason: I have been writing poetry and prose much of my life. I’ve been published, won prizes but realize I write most for myself — to express, explore, expunge and exhort.