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Michelle Medina
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b
burning incense by the bedside
languidly laying underneath the heavy red blanket the smoothness of my bare legs feel every fiber smooth skin extending from my toes upward to my thighs two legs parting, two hands feeling eyes closed, smoke wafting like mermaid hair in the tide to caress my senses fingers dip in my little pool and trace ribbons over my hip bone, over the cleft in the center of my belly over mounds of breast sinew of neck throbbing as my right hand returns down my heart beats in anticipation of my special touch the same as the day before, the same as tomorrow\'s my legs entangle with the red blanket i dance, a heliotropic motion spinning floa
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heading north
things i learned: girlfriends get jealous when you talk to their boyfriends sometimes boyfriends go by other names, like \'special friend.\' that makes me think of retarded kids in short yellow buses with seat belts, because they are \'special.\' you can drive all night in a straight line, taking naps in between little towns like \"my anus\" and \"keen city\" where the prison population is greater than the outpatient population. everyone is an outpatient waiting to be let in, codependency shackling wrist to ankle in pharmaceutical shape, all the colors of the rainbow, even camouflage. over the rainbow, no over the rain-boy, dr
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inside the dark bag
Can I?   Can I find the trick in the bag? The last drop in the can? Will I kick the bucket or fall flat on my back in a feeble attempt? Will I find that glimmer of sex in your eye and polish it, make it shine? Like antelope's horns, proud atop their graceful head. Like a trophy on your mantle. We will watch and see. Looking for the truths I want to find, gleaming over what I don't want, into the bag past pebbles and stones Past shame and deceit into pride and Hope- to rise like a climaxing storm or descending jingoism. Deep into the abyss of light colored eyes Or stench of shit or swirl of spit burrowing into my breast
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Distractions
My thoughts strayed to her, to him, here, there As I was touching her. Revisiting the streets of the big accident A crowd around a street magician Glass glittering, Broken, on the pavement Cars like accordions Wrinkled like paper. Looking through the cracks in the fence Between the red sun beaten slats Into the kitchen window Walking on the dank dry Stink of the carpet Walking through the kitchen Finding a hollow dog carcass by the stove Body outlined with dust Spider-made sheets in the toilet bowl. Remembering the turtle dashing across the Expanse of the short green grass. The bullet lodged in the dog's thigh. The mois
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untitled
I stop before rounding the bend On the corner Sits a purple house with curly green trim, Dimpled glass on its open windows, Chain link fence encircles it It's protected from escaping It's gutted, like a fish The remains are left Next to the open slice of concrete Neat piles arranged by gravity Outside the window pane When elements of home Are pulled out like intestines and bone White hard hats Curse like sailors and throw it away At 9:45pm no one is home The windows are still open That fence does not work at night The corners sag in weariness No wife to cook dinner Or peel the dust covered shoes from exhausted feet I
Garden Torch
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Spider's shadow
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Bright Bath
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in water
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Grey Dome
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Grates and Shadows
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b
blackhairedlover loves America
You dye your hair black, the thick waves on your crown and the bristles of your beard, to match the thin worn threads of your secondhand suit, in reverent imitation of a time and a place of a person you wish you were. You are becoming as you leisurely sip your whiskey lighting Lucky Strikes- the match flame and amber juice keeping you warm. Conversation inciting like kindling in a funeral pyre, the spiral of smoke mingles over the scent of our breath as you gruffly tell me, Ba-by, you tell me that you've always lived alone. And you sit in this chair for forty minutes and eight on the can before goi
self portrait one
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self portrait two
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Door II
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lone cigarette
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in the tree
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blue chair
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red ball 01
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red ball 02
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red ball 03
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