Skyscrapers emerge like great stalagmites Their tops wreathed in mist Streets cobweb like the veins of a leaf People are talking, laughing, yelling In English, French, Russian Not everyone understands one another But some do We gather at watering holes to feed Go out in…

The coffee at the canteen’s no damn good, you know I think the supplier slipped the kitchen super a bag of cement mixed with topsoil— you’d think they’d have figured it out when the shelf collapsed under the weight of the sack But no, they…

(Note to reader…..this is a concrete poem. I was unable to render it as written, here on my page, but have provided the text to complete my 24 hour chapbook. Thanks!)   A doer of redundance is rolls, and curls, string, and orb.