MORNING MARKET
The red birds singing
On the warm electric wires
Above the morning market.
Old women lining up guitars
And ancient paintings of
Wheelbarrows and presidents.
Quiet Navahos with razor gift sets and heavy grey blankets.
Sodium-arc lights catching
The pre-dawn fever and clicking off.
Bugs buzz to life
While flowers wilt and sink
Into the imported
Cranberry-colored soil.
The rolling hulks of Americana
Crunching the sharp gravel.
These morning noises
Like miniature death roses
Cause the redbirds to take flight
Taken from my 2008 book CONFESSIONS OF A CONCRETE CUTOUT.
Written by Cecil Smead
Posted on 04/26/13
