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james mcgonigal
Poet  •  Critic

Contact  James McGonigal

Click on the poem title to read the next excerpted poem from Cloud Pibroch.

                    The Wall

Ropes of tears secured the scaffolding which held
a mile of planks on which all the workers stood weeping.

The wall had been speaking again in that damp
foundation tone that gave orders for its own fashioning:

North by northeast at 10 foot 4 inches in height
over hill and dale without bend for the next 2 miles.


Only the choice of lime-wash for each stretch now lay
at the workers’ discretion: ochre, blue or crimson

and they could not decide which might prove most pleasing
hence their stasis and tears: they just could not decide.