Bauhaus Poem by Emlyn Wentwhistle
Bauhaus
Thia is the Bauhaus
where lumbering maverick hands
-a kind of tragedy unfolding-
mould cumbersome laminate
and cold implausible steel.
An odourless vision-
unwieldy, ill conceived
-the transformation of man
to machine-made man.
And looking outwards,
staid Fraulein Dambeck,
lips and nose pressed to recalcitrant glass,
performs industrial striptease.
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4/24/2024 7:09:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
