in medias res (20171019)

close your eyes
and grit your teeth

this is going to hurt
this is going to feel good
this is going to make you forget but
this is going to be memory

let the feeling separate you
from your skin like a sunday chicken
on a weight watcher’s plate

let yourself be blind
feel the ten thousand needles
each and every single one of them


firmly in hand
eyes closed
eyes closing
because when they open
and your breath is your own again

the moment is over
is past
is memory

found under a rock in the garden (20170618)

i can’t scrub this feeling
from my skin
sticks to me
like saran wrap in those
auto-erotic asphyxiation
pics from the coroner’s office

i stretch and stretch
pushing the fatigue out
until my joints separate
one by one
the pockets between bones
pop with gas or separation
as if there were a difference

the sky has hit that summer blue
shade too soon for me
and tomorrow the sun will hang
white in the sky
a judgment on all of us