Saturday, April 09, 2016


A Zamboni pile, c. 1880, Teylers Museum

So sweet, all the ways in which invention seeks to store its own energy—a
battery of designs, but few as accidentally poetic as a Zamboni pile, with its
honey and gilding. And what if we took a bit of tissue paper on which we’d
written some dreams, sintered it to zinc foil? What if we’d trimmed those
dreams out into perfect circles sticky with honey, pressed each foiled disc
against another in a neat stack? It might be elegant, fragrant (ozone’s bite
a whetstone on which to sharpen wildflowers), but it’d store less of a charge
than we store while reading poems, glowing in the shine of a fat full moon.

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