Such a hulking object to be carried into place like a storm cloud (it's been everywhere)! Here's a poem to the secret handled space, the portable closet: "from the bed of the street / come / came / these clouds / so plumb / it was impossible / not possible the street / had not steered them / impossible." (Jacques Roubaud, in The Form of a City Changes Faster than the Human Heart (Dalkey Archive Press, 2006).
