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BANK / And over all, of purest gold was spred A trayle of yvie in his native hew: For the rich metall was so coloured, That wight who did not well avised it vew, Would surely deeme it to be yvie trew: --Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene, Il.xii The mood is "guarded optimism" here. To every short horizon, east or west I see the stupid rhetoric of stone. With physical bravado, stone asserts oh, several hundred thousand tons of trust at least, as if our faith in deities as effervescent as a decimal point could be confirmed, tested by the pound. This is the environment of number, this is the greenhouse where it's grown, soUd-looking as a church. It's müd as a maternity ward. Here we can actually watch the virgin birth of Money--from the first whaUop on the back to the final handshake to get it breathing. The glass through which we peer is sound-proof, buUet-proof, but we can watch it grow, move around in there--the numbers multiplying themselves, aU this without rainfaU, sun or soU, without a sound. The "farmer" dabs the keyboard with her naU, my check is sown, transubstantiated into number. She slides me
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Oct 5, 1991
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