a brief flash (20170910)

something black flashes
in the grass
exactly the way
light doesn’t expand

overhead the sun blazes
behind a white cloud
and casts a long black shadow
across the sky
an oil slick on blue

moving toward me
the bones in my feet
phalange proximal metatarsal
vibrate with its approach
something insensate and unilluminated
flashes underground
knowing me without knowing

promises of moonlight (20170901)

the clouds are maxfield parrish
strata, pulled, ripped
strawberry pink and orange
creamsicle dripping across
a cooling blue expanse
the sun at just the right angle

look back after looking down
and every color has been leeched
to gray
but the color of lead offers
its own comfort
signalling a purple sky
promising half a moon

twilight (Poem 20160507)

we joke about it
you want me to murder you
but you insist it not hurt
and i tell you that
if it ever came down to it
i would follow soon after

i think too much about it
maybe this is why i don’t have friends

painless leaves few options
maybe pills for you
just a gentle falling asleep
or a squeeze of the iv bag
some extra morphine
like i always imagined i’d
have to do for someone else
like i would hope someone
would have the sense to do
for me

but for me, maybe a hose
from the exhaust pipe
through the passenger window
and i could listen to
death cab for cutie on my phone
because that would be ironic

this is why i don’t have friends