how to make guacamole (20161224)

mash the avocado with a fork
leave some chunks
add lemon juice, salt, garlic
chili to your tolerance

slice an onion in half
while it still lives
in its skin

press your thumb
into a layer below
the dried outer paper

feel the layers separate
your thumb a medium
a wedge dividing
the outside from the inside
you don’t have to remove the skin
yet
just feel that moment
caught between together
and apart

every word
a wedge finding its way
between my layers
each word a manicured thumb
breaking me apart
but leaving me intact

mince well
serve with homemade
chips

long enough (20161128)

sit still long enough and hear
the universe howl in your ears
bees dog-piling on an intruder
the rim of a wine glass
flicked by a broken acrylic fingernail
the silence in the house
when everyone is gone but you

sit still long enough and feel
the universe press in on you
the falsity of gravity
a grey boundary between
your ass and the chair
your skin expanding at light speed
while the universe expands a little bit slower

sit still long enough and regrow
your amputated limbs
stop hitting yourself
taste blood as it drips from sinuses
into your throat
stop hitting yourself
drool as you teethe with a low-grade fever

sit still long enough and you won’t have to wait
for last rites
for burial
for cremation
for eulogies
stop hitting
for silence

——

revised: 20161130

proiectus (20160705)

use a plane
the kind without wings

take me apart
one layer at a time

each strata reveals
subsurface fossils

memories, anger, fear
desire trapped in amber

light shines through
bright enough to cast shadows

old bones glow
beneath translucent skin

my insides projected
against the wall

——

for
The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Layers