Conestructions:exploring urban beauty and concrete truths




Cone Sentinel


O stalwart shield of the careless and rash
Egyptians of old built cone temples for you
Orange Angel, you stand, constant and true
Your sacrifice diverting each fatal crash.

What divine hand shaped your perfect form?
What gods stole your color from the sun's rays,
Infused it into that primordial clay
And kissed it to life with the breath of a storm?

How many pass by, never knowing that they
Are sheltered beneath your wings of gold,
Kept safe from the clutches of Death so cold.
But thankless, unmoving, and faithful you stay.

O Sentinel, your spirit no human could tame
Without you, our roads would ne'er be the same.


-Lori O'Conel


"Funeral Cone"

(Courtesy of Sam P.)


Cones can be.
Cones are me.
Cones come forth, scar-i-ly.
Cones are nice.
Cones hide mice.
Cones will be my friend.



Haiku to a Cone

Little guardian
Warn the chicken of the pond
Save our feathered friend.

-Edgar T. Conebury


Cone Alone

O Cone, all alone
Unable to reach the public phone
Upon the road you stand
Valiantly, you defend
Us, the unwashed masses
From deep holes and hollows
From the car wreck that horrifies
From the collapsed highway
We think not of your sacrifice
Nor the terrors you face every day
Thank you,
Cone All alone


Dearest Orange Friend

Oh little cone so dear
I could flip you to catch my tear
It drops from my silent eye
When I blink


The rising sun's red glee
Gleams across the asphalt sea
The hidden hole I spy
Close at hand

oh my
oh my

My mangled cycle lies
Beneath the brightening skies
I see up close the orange
In the hole

I cringe
I cringe

Who hid you down so deep
Who hid your orange,
that creep Your color will not rhyme
Still I write

no time
no time

Our day-glo friend is gone
Smashed flat beneath the dawn
The paving crew draws near
Fills the hole

so dear
so dear

A steaming grave I see
A hot, blacktop patch for thee
No eulogy, I deplore
Cone no more

no more
no more.

-Mary Burgess







Cone Film


Cone Sculpture in San Francisco