SHOTGUN UNDER THE BED
This is the way we love. She said,
If the fog never lifts, the city's still
one way to hide. This is the way we love,
said, with a shotgun
And her hand smoothed the skin.
BAY TOWN VARIATIONS
When traffic's low,
Our machines drill the floor
If geology has taught us anything,
Light brings old cars
must baffle everyone—how,
"Shotgun Under the Bed" is a kind of Frankenstein of rejected lines from previous poems I've written, which just needed a little stitching and some electricity. Or, for a more contemporary analogy, it is like the deleted scenes from the unrated version of the dvd. "Bay Town Variations" is me doing my part for the environment. Keep your head up, environment.