A power-house
in the shape of
a red brick chair
90 feet high
on the seat of which
sit the figures
of two metal
stacks--aluminum--
commanding an area
of squalid shacks
side by side--
from one of which
buff smoke
streams while under
a grey sky
the other remains
passive today--
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what is wrong with him