Schmidt made me Like others each in turn as the street grew south I was a pit in clay A wall of cinderblock holding out the damp My parts began diverging, my purposes cleared I was tar and poured cement I was a skeleton of two-by-fours, the wind between my ribs
Floorboards gave me layers
Men stood on them, smoking cigarettes
Boys climbed down ladders to explore my partitions
I was a concert of hammering, band saws whined at my perimeters
My horizon was a battlefield of trenches and stakes
Schmidt's truck kept bringing my devices
Pipes for fluids, wires to connect me with the world
I was plaster, I was rubber and glass
My joists, my iron ligaments grew invisible
I took on angles, gable and dormer and plumb back door
I blocked the wind, I was rooms each linked to another
Ducts and vents gave me unity
Women came, their hands on my walls
I was whitewash and would be paint and would wear cloth
Around me my brothers stood up in the field
Only the oldest trees were taller
Fresh asphalt welcomed Schmidt's truck, marked my border
Sidewalk traveled beside it
I support habitation, my green robe is growing
My arms extend to every corner
At my heart new sheet metal sings in the heat
TODAY IN SLATE
I was hit by a teacher in an East Texas public school. It taught me nothing.
There Are New Abuse Allegations Against Adrian Peterson
After This Merger, One Company Could Control One-Third of the Planet's Beer Sales
John Oliver Pleads for Scotland to Stay With the U.K.
If You’re Outraged by the NFL, Follow This Satirical Blowhard on Twitter
Don’t Expect Adrian Peterson to Go to Prison
In much of America, beating your kids is perfectly legal.
Ford’s Big Gamble
It’s completely transforming America’s best-selling vehicle.