concrete

I can never remember things
like argyle
until I see it.
sort of like poplars, thrushes, walpoles, and asphodels.
all usable words, meanings unknown.
i weave ideas, i stitch notions, images
of my life
of your beauty
i know nothing of nature
i can't identify the trees
clueless to the flora and the fauna
all their many names
elude me.
i'm a creator birthed of concrete
i buy what i own; i earn what i eat
Whitman has a mile on me (or more)

i sing bridge songs
landscape lullabies
beneath a sky scratched emerald, yellow, pink
before the sun, behind the smog.
i tunnel-crawl and plunge
beneath the river
but never am i wet.