The Parking Lot Sutra

The shadow of your heart
wrapped in tinfoil
discovers a new use for gravity

just a little something to set alongside the
octopus in the bathysphere

What is it divided three ways?

Leaving no doubt as to the intent
(painted green)
& reaching for frequencies beyond the pale light
just to prove that I can & do
as often as you

Drop C Tuning for Steam-Driven Guitar

The azure reticence of your
waterproof mascara
         knocking down the
                  auguries of innocence
                           in rusty tidepool sessions
plus a flicker of wings maybe
                  a synthesis of custom chrome
                                    & bad timing

The light doesn't lift
                  anymore than the dark
                  falls
                           & if I had a hacksaw
I'd play you a tune
         retreating to the pulmonary root
that rattles within a sigh
         every time you
                           shake your hips