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Cash Crop Concrete Hollow

Posted: June 19, 2009

7 years ago there were no houses

there across the bay

just dust, rock, prickly bushes,

the sigh of open spaces

now there are concrete clusters

empty palaces

for the worthy

everyplace i go they sprinkle water on the dirt

to sprout these hutches

a morning rash across a spread

of marble skin.

harvest the cash crop of pus

and keep your head above the water.

there's sound across the evening town

like a hammer

there's a whisper in the tiny streets

like running water

the cry of a child paying with pyrites

in the conviction of his find

in the horrors to unfold.

'mother." you will cry

"Mother!"

Spring 2009 Poetry:

RAPPERS AND THEIR GAME by Michael Cromwell
EDITOR'S CHOICE: Three poems by Robert Flanagan
OCCUPATION by Elizabeth Pavlov
ONE BLUE SHOE by Barbara De Franceshi
THE FUNERAL DIRECTOR by Jennifer Juneau
CASH CROP CONCRETE HOLLOW by Dave Migman
THE SWIMMERS by Oskar Hansen
MAUDLIN MOMENTS by Judson Hamilton
HORNETS by Christie Isler
BLACK MAGIC BOXES by John Tortora