Let Pylons be Pylons

Incensed by their utilitarian
blot on the landscape
you are. Towers.
Linking arms and
buzzing with deathly potential.
Watch them march all over
your slumped velvety couch
upturned tired armchairs
The hills you call home
Follow them if you want
They know how to do
an honest day’s march
Cook Strait, Grenada,
Transmission Gully
in the most direct route
Then go home and
turn on the light.



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