a four lane highway [draft]

molten machine buzz

docked atop the horizontal blow
returns to strike cheek and brow 
with entropy’s graceless glow
their whole lives 
a single permitted use
across a four lane highway
children teetering
on a bed of weeds
i’m longing again
learn’d pall espied 
the hungry concrete gray
drape of water and stone
twisted into graceful tones
shovels deep
til crash of stone
and flame sparks breath
earth to silken spinning rise
brown leather strikes bow
to work to home to bar
where neon sings, to car
[the molten machine
their sigh
across a four lane highway ]

trench warfare, v1

here we are again,
alone with the screaming
whiskey baby — a thousand miles
gone, flies speak a single tongue
every tongue — a pretty girl
walks across the amber bar
she will not hear it, she must
not hear it; please
dug into the earth’s narrow vein
she sounds like rain, a spark
filling lungs, one last dark sip
back against the dark bar.