Knitting A Poem By The Hoover Dam

1 November 2018

Knitting a poem for Husker Du by the Hoover Dam
And other monuments. The poem looks like a bee (to
Knit Keatsianly). Knitting poems by the Harbour
Bridge, letting moisture into the wool

As it rises, as it sprays from the wake of the ferries
The life of the sea. Knitting a poem by Arthur’s Seat
My Dad looking on benignly. Knitting a poem for the
Pogues at Barrowlands, and other

Bands. Knitting a poem by the Big Sheep, so waxily
Figurative, an old bad feeling creates knots and
Fissures, like some poison or prison’s got in the line
Knitting a poem for my nephew, so

He might climb out of any white life that’s made for
Him and his. Knitting a poem by pine trees (symbols
Of longevity) for purring black cockies to eat; or by
The Great Buddha of Toganji Temple

In Motoyama. What’s Bob Mould doing today
Tonight, I wonder? The knitting grows a tail like an
Unfazed gecko, becomes a poem of two tones. To
The poem the needles are home

Knitting by the Amphlett memorial in Little Bourke
Us boys desperate to get it done. Knitting to the sound
Of a gypsy band, late in the forest where gay poets
Dance, a plate of gelato and WWII

How swans make the sky look blue. The Avalanches
And Jean-Luc Godard: all get a garter. Ian Hamilton
Finlay, I’ve been knitting this poem all day. I’m going
To wear it at Little Sparta

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