bargun momb



This is a concrete poem,

with grass poking through the cracks,

and a pin, down between the slabs

where it can't be reached,

an acid stain in front of the chemistry

building,

and not a few scratches from file cabinets

and the like.


This is a concrete poem,

paving over my whimsey,

and the all-too-common urge

towards obscurantism.


This is a concrete poem,

vulnerable to acid,

and the violence of a critical hammer.


This is a concrete poem,

but some time ago

I was carrying it to a reading,

and a little piece broke of