Saturday, August 29, 2009

PILE OF METAL by Barry Tate

One sees a pile of rusted junk
But me, a Roman ruin,
Or a landscape scar
From a fallen star,
Or an alien cab,
Or a madman's lab,
Maybe gizmo scrap
Or a secret map
Or a monument raised
For whom they praised
As a character named McCuen.


MomZup said...

The son surpasseth the father in the poetry department! Yikes!

barefootkangaroo said...

I disagree. This is one of my favorites.