Concrete Poetry

Within the general “context” of Leaves of Grass, we delve into the depradations of NYC, the USA, and why concrete sidewalks had to be invented, to pave the way to a heyday of USA– via Wall Street, the functional equivalent of the USA, and to the twenty thousand immigrants Walt cites, in Mannahatta, coming into NYC each day, believing the streets were paved with gold,

Uncertain what a street was, but as gold is immutable, transportable, rare, and since the dawn of time, or at least civilization, bestowed with value, aesthetic relic, barbaric metal, barbarism fun, funded with gold, a dubloon, bubloon bubbling upsprang,

You walk along a Mannahatta walkway, before Henry Ford,

You sniff the grass, of dank, without a shank, and without remorse,

The grass– tall grass– sent by Oscar Wilde– not at all mild– Oxford,

Dubloon shimmering sun, showers in hours,

Tides swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,

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