Two Poems | Benjamin Krusling

went home , fell out ,

can feel that draining feeling , that lack , that light , that need

to convince myself

I’m doing a very specific thing , it can’t be extrapolated – I’m in my own zone ​​ 

and accompanying myself to its bright​​ black edge . real demon hours ,

carnival hours . C says I literally love life – anything can happen ! so I asked

the black night , please , give me a form to rest in , a veil of tears through

which I can conceive of your body ... it’s​​ flip​​ – it’s a way of​​ not committing​​ 

self impalement – it’s a draining procedure

then a little sun warms the room , this ecstasy of heat by which our skin​​ 

perceives light – a bit of radiation

but I thought we were done with all that dermal propaganda ,,,..​​ 

we’re​​ never done with it

a gate screams on the street and a man screams with it –

but doing that one dance , I think my back broke , exactly ,​​ 

I was in fog and in trouble

I saw myself get up and I saw myself stagger

it’s dark outside on this waning public street

and there’s a weight on my ankle , 100 pounds , 200

​​ 

salmon , lichen , birch oil

no , no , yells

the ​​ non-diegetic griever​​ 

I care so much about you

something is so right

I’m in the process

of degodding my life ,​​ 

unknuckling the hand

of the​​ father – and further​​ 

pages from my notebook .

I actually think I love you .

everyone’s touching scale when

they access these feelings

not shivering in a tangle of materials .

it is electric ! to eat , be delivered

to hear the alarm that ends alarm ,​​ forever