- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Fuck Progress
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The concrete cubes and smoke stacks
obscure the view as does the low hum
of urbanization. The stink of pulp mills
burning, are a red light at a 4-way in
an alfalfa-and-sheep nowhere.
This sprawl scars the country,
where Starbuck's pock main street
giving the locals a taste of modernization.
It feels uneven, I mull this sitting
in a new bodega with sauvignon blanc
sharp on my tongue, longing
for this small town to stay small and
iced sweet tea in a jelly jar.
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