A Play and A Poem

Well, I've been busy writing a play for a magazine contest. Hopefully, I'll be able to post the first act soon. Been reading Faulkner and Stoppard, and watching tons of movies to help with this new experience of writing something that is meant to be performed. Its great because I have no clue what I'm doing. Anyways, between classes I wrote this poem . . . Concrete, Grass, Snow Concrete steps that lead away from a building. Trees without leaves but With limbs that bend like wilted flowers or extend out like arthritic fingers. The rusted and broken-off bar Among the other bars of the step-railing. Melted snow, in the courtyard on the horizon, With those crippled trees that are strewn throughout As if they were subsidized houses, Or accentuated mountains on A globe of green water and white land. A squashed, pea-sized plant-fruit at my feet With a pool of yellow Surrounding its empty skin. Small concrete stones huddled together. Clear salt-rocks turned blue. A freshly laid square of concrete, Lighter than its surrounding squares. The section along this building that is roped off With cautionary tape and orange cones. Arm-length icicles hang off the gutter: By-and-by they will pierce The chalk-outlined victim In a bullet-speed reaction.