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POEM FOR KATIE, QUEEN OF OHIO #50
by Darren C. Demaree I understand why the room craves the corners, but I will never understand why the construction of Ohio is nothing but corners. We are people that are a result of field parties. Does that smell of a fire gone out not frighten anyone else? Kathryn, I'm not telling you to burn it all down. I'm telling you to light every fire you can. |
UNDER, OVER, THROUGH by Kyle Hemmings |
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SAINT LOUIS
by Henry Goldkamp Brick teeth muddy the water, shine silver the Monument. Brown hid from the alley, its kitties & graffiti; sunk a riverfront, the last grassy bohemia. Detroit gives good shoulder rubs but can't hurl that brick high enough over hundreds of steeples close to clouds. No one can, kid or clergy, blue or not. Crumbling concrete idols stay tan & silent, spying on styrofoam cups in St. Mary Park while history bellies in the bricks. |
GIRDED by Ruben Briseno Reveles |
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CONCRETE
by Paul Smith In Los Angeles There's lots of concrete Going straight up In the high rises Spread out flat on the expressways All that concrete With no place to go More concrete than The people Jammed in here More than the palm trees More than the tuna in the blue sea More than all of The names of God And after a long hot day In Los Angeles That doesn't really cool off The concrete doesn't either It sits there smoldering Having punched a one-way ticket To stiffness In that concrete mixer As it gets harder with time Making it even more immobile Can't go to Vegas Or Frisco Or the cool high country of Tahoe It's stuck here And late at night You can hear it Simmer and fuss and whimper Noises you thought might be Traffic Or the swimming pool compressor It's concrete weeping for itself And everything in it Sand Gravel Water Cement Crammed into this tiny space Too small Sobbing collectively For all they could have been Had we not come along |
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