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.