___________for Jeff Alfier
He’s a blacksmith
of word and image.
With his hammer of light
and his anvil of black,
intractable shadow,
he forges the apotheosis
of awe. His aperture
is the eye of God.
He seeks the forsaken,
whiling away his hours
circling abandoned houses
for the perfect angle,
old dwellings listing
as if tugged by phantom
pulleys toward the ground.
He likes old factories,
frayed conveyor belts
sagging with rats
and cooing pigeons.
The maestro of ruin,
like a chanting shaman,
he sifts through imaginary
tons of rubble and detritus,
febrile in his quest
for dark beauty.
|