More on: memory

My love, I can’t fathom you
nor life without the memory of you.
The preacher says there’s nothing
new under the sun. I argue
he forgets our forgetfulness.

We come into dusk
on roads narrowed by briar,
dewberries firing red
and purple musk in heat.

Sometimes in the sound and the light / it grows so still / it’s possible to forget / you are moving through the air.

A man once told me that chaos must have a voice. A man once told me that language could heal everything. The chambers of my mind are full of wormholes. When it is smashed open, dark things crawl out of it.

I love you. That human line of language, three syllables and eight letters with two spaces in between.

YOU MIGHT BE AT A DISTANCE from your life. As always: an ordinary state, banal. Your body headed straight for the abyss, with the forward momentum of age. And beneath the freshness of blood there is weakness, ashes. Nostalgia: the soul. Sick, yes. Without a doubt: sick. And the real name of that sickness would be…

It is a fact that no one worries in the Bible. —Adam Phillips i. She worried. & she knew. Good enough makes a faint halo. Still she was good enough. She let the infant dream his unbroken body at her nipple. She suckled him & waited as lightning struck. Often. His eyes clouded— ultramarine, gray…

A lost man might pour his jug onto the sand to feel one with the desert, and for that moment he is cleansed of heat and thirst. But freedom is not a moment’s craft. Pinned by memory, he will regret the gesture and the surrender. The sullen break of journey onto knees will not console…

In classical physics, the past is assumed to exist as a definite series of events, but according to quantum physics…only as a spectrum of possibilities.                                         —Stephen Hawking Too often they kept on surfacing suddenly, stifling…

My aged father and I enjoy the silence between us as we sit in the Adirondacks, watching the children playing tag on the lawn and running in circles, happy to be it or not to be it, happy just to be, though I know they give no thought to being. My father leans toward me…