ALL PASSES :
ART ALONE ENDURES
Only by knowing what all that means will
anything be brought to the fore : those bridge
struts, the car park, the fire, all those white
buildings in today's Jackson Park. Chicago
has destroyed by vandals and itself the
remnants, whatever was sensibly left, of
the Columbian Exposition's 'White City'
of 1893. Floyd Dell and his sister Margery,
the rough-time zumos of all this anterior
space, can only sit back in wonder.
Now, we are left alone in this wind-vapid,
sexless city to repeat again what once
over the doorway read: 'All Passes -
ART alone endures.'
-
Phil told me to 'watch out for the
full moon.' So I did. For two days,
at five a.m. it sank, still full, at the
western horizon - landing, it seemed,
on the roadway's distant end like a
big pat of winsome butter melting down.
And then it grew light out. And then
nothing happened at all. So?
-
I bought a coffee with quarters and dimes.
Really. Really. That was all it was worth.
No comments:
Post a Comment