Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2018
Over yonder past stacks of wheat and hay
There lies the first pavements of a newly born city
Ever beautiful and frightening still
I am watching, standing like the American gothic
Wrought with overalls and a straw hat
I fork my hay, moving it to free the image
To free the image of this paved monolith
Flat like a laid down headstone
Indeed, a headstone to mother earth
BRANDEN B BRANDEN
Written by
BRANDEN B BRANDEN  30/M
(30/M)   
86
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems