2 flat planes of gray pancake batter
held up by epoxy coated rebars clinging to invisible bones
cooked up in some buttery dreams years ago
some kind of business plan
some kind of notion
some kind of blueprint unknown
left sitting in the sun and the rain
little cuts in the epoxy grow
into metal tendons bubbling rust
pushing off pancake batter in chunks
some kind of urge that cuts earth from sky
some kind of math in our blood
some kind of hard edge to defend
strewn with mickey’s 40 ounce bottles and dirty sleeping bags now
and half formed graffiti pieces painted on the floor
unpracticed scripts of color and form
some kind of hot light buzzing above
some kind of dark level cool below
some kind of difference to be tended
as house sparrows and pigeons
darting in curves
fly between the straight lines in our heads
heat flow 