Wandering Around the Louis Salk Institute

They do not want us here to sully what they've made.
It is perfection. See those slabs of pristine concrete.
See the walls and windows, hewing unapologetically
To Euclid's sterile forms and laws. Their plazas are not
Meant for people. Rather, they are starkly empty
Spaces, meant to be perceived from somewhere
In the distance by someone whose home is somewhere
Else as symbols of infinity. The plans are their unyielding
Dreams. Each place itself is like a prison. That's what we
Should have expected. They don't want us here.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2017-06-04 at 01:42

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Bibek
Grotesque.
2017-06-10