Poem: Greg Hill

Kenneth Goldsmith with folded hands.
[Untitled (Kenneth Goldsmith)]

     T   OLD
      H  OLD
  N      O
        GO D
    E   GO
        GO     T
            SM  H

Greg Hill spends weekdays looking out windows and at computer screens at the non-profit media company where he works in Hartford, CT, and which still has not given him a key to the executive washroom, even after his earning an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts. He has never met an astronaut [he didn’t like].

This poem, having no title, is one of a series of poems which employ the same strict form. The poem is written one word per line such that the letters from each word can be found in a source text, and retain letter order and position. Each letter in the source text is used, and the poem itself is a reflection of the source text, which, in this case, is the name “KENNETH GOLDSMITH”.

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