I had not been familiar with the work of the Canadian poet, publisher, and “literary activist” Louis Dudek; I thank wood s lot for introducing me to him. Here’s an obituary, and here’s a poem:

As language. . .
As language. . .Silence is also a language.
When there is no order in heaven
we make what we make
by luck, or strength,
or the composition of desire.
Power grows
like vegetation,
and there are no preferences under heaven.
I do not know why a leaf should be of less worth
than a Vatican,
or why builders care.
The mathematical stones recite their logic
of cruelty and despair—
we arose to gratify some searchless reason
shaping the empty air.


  1. there’s a slight error in your link to Louis Dudek:
    instead of :

  2. Many thanks — I’ve now fixed it. (The one time I forget to try my links in preview…)

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