Smokestacks

Unusually grown concrete roses
teach the Babylonians of hope, lest
their wilting contest the decrees of growth.

Sometimes you end up between a rock, and
a hard place that may delegate your cards;
but we don't fold, or hold orgami

as an art of uncommon conventions.
There are jacks of all trades, some of them jack,
some of them tuckin a gun in their laps,
like a napkin, the casket is coming
to catch that which awaits its ends in a
Stack. It's all smoke and mirrors. Appearance.
Looks can deceive thus some have come to be
leave only when they see their blood isn't

Green