une poésie concrète
by Mike Buckthought
four wooden pegs, a length of string
and freshly poured concrete
a rectangular prison removed from
the world, but still in its embrace.
poetry emerges as the iambic
pounding of construction crews
slipping across a desolate landscape,
surveying the wreckage of the
suburban dream. from concrete boxes
to apartment blocks, a cold metallic
sheen. cars as corpuscles, creeping
through the smog and tangled arteries.
Published in The Delicate Art of Paper Passing, March 2006.