A geologist takes his time,
watches the towers rise quick as a drink
(from the sand, silt, clay left by a
glacial lake not so
long ago, a present
from the past),
works on an orange, re-confirms its outer
rigid skin, its semi-molten
outer core. On the north
tower the base of the highest floor is pieced
He'll give you sixty-five million
reasons for loving alluvium, land
a man can feel
when the excavator thumps the academic green,
the kind of land a man can take
a load from, the crane now
working just beneath itself.
The towers, he knows, will soon break apart
into drill bits, coils, shards of hard-
hats, buried forests of forces and iron, concrete gone
abstract on us, gravel and water again, impact,
evidence of cranes.
Time wears on a guy, he thinks,
watching the crane which
in moments faces every
direction there is.
Re "Geological Highway
Map of Saskatchewan"
The only technical suggestion I have is
the outer core is thought to be
liquid--the deep mantle
Gerry Hill knows him