Spinning my wheels
on a long drive
next mile mark
next town
next valley
or bug splattered
windshield horizon
on my mind

Grass and trees
pass in a sleepy haze
until the thump-thump
of a pothole jars
half lidded eyes
open wide

Ahead I see
the red smear
of mangled flesh

The crow flies
just in time
as this steel
four wheel
predator bears down
on his meal

I veer left
straddle death
tires singing hymns
to the highway

Ravens dance upon highwires.
Flashing pinwheels spinning in their beaks.
The merry-go-round grinds,
Its rusted gears, squealing into the wind.
Book pages whirl and fly off into the sky.
The fox’s cry to the butterfly
Went unheard in this whitewashed night.

He has two voices
One is for lying
It sounds almost
Like love
Feels warm and wet
It's for raising
Skin and making
Shivers
It's for winning
Arguments
Changing minds
Bending morals
Unbuttoning shirts
Two is for defying
It sounds like
Seams ripping
Feels like sand paper
It's for saying yes
So loud that
No's are drowned out
It's for cornering
When convincing
Doesn't work
It's for winning
Wars
Closing mouths
Pinning down
For keeping secrets
Kept.