i verily
goddamned well
flew upon
gossamer wings
of latent disasters
at the speed of
i fucking dare you
up and down the
i35 corridor
a marionette
tugged by
invisible strings
a castanet filled
with writhing
pale maggots
shaking in my guts
rattling the
dirge that
darkened my way
back to dallas
as my wooden joints
seized in this
saint vitus dance
of insipid miseries.

the hawks know
each of my dark secrets
yet they glide
silently in an
ever tightening spiral
as we plummet
downdowndown to the dirt
perhaps i am a skittish
little field mouse
chewing seeds and
frightened of every
shifting shadow
but i can feel
my talons gripping
tightly to the wheel
and i can hear the
rapid little heartbeat
in the sparse brown grass.

my tattered moth wings
leave a trail of rusted scabs
rustling in the texas breeze
and if you squint just right
directly towards the sun
i make a strikingly
oblique sort of shadow.