To become retro
for the third time, to hear
laughter cloud the air

from a different direction—more west
than east, south than north—to lose
track of the full moon

tally is to be in medias
res. Is to be on
the verge

of reconciliation: talk
with listen, sleep with walk, trust with
survive, survive with prevail.

Day 2,901

No mapping
exercise, no
diapason, geometric
shape speaking to me
while I sleep

will bring him back. No
longer in medias res, he
took the wrong detour
and never recovered
his footing.

in medias res (Day 2,542)

And those rocks we would slip
off come high
tide. Your face drawn
with a cane in all that blown
sand. The painful 

part is not being able
to carry things.
Analepsis is my burden, prolepsis
yours. Together,
we drop 

to our knees
relieved to have this cold
opening to ourselves.