Memento II

The ephemera of my blinked
existence live in shoeboxes,

cigar cases dust-lined and
discolored as if from slow fire

smoking through teenage
correspondence, solemn feelings,

molars and other artifacts
dropped from us

and kept for the reason why
there may be birds which

forget to find their lives beautiful
when nesting, when soaring and

anxious on telephone lines
I dig up the source

but am pulled under
because there was more to

the story that had or hadn’t
happened:

tickets and once-scented kerchiefs
and the newness of love,

a mirror that isn’t,
we ultimately do not stumble

upon ourselves, only someone else
who remembers by keeping

 

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Summer Heart

photo (1)

The curly tendrils of snow peas
snatch at each other
tentative and desperate,

how the heat goes under
when day descends into
dusk without once
looking back

chatter of watery French
the Quebecois girls snap stems
with rough fingers
my ears lulled to

inclinations within fields
of the mind, monologues of
black birds with red chests
that caw and fly up, up

the sun a round red balloon
balanced in the evening air
I am trying to hold it there
by some sleight of magic,

desire, or illusion
which are all one thing
Sandrine can tell time
by its angle in the sky —

8 o’clock and she is right,
and she jumps up with a
bright laugh, emblem

of all youth:
pea stalks in hand
blonde wisps floating


Anaphora: a method to begin

The span of a decade,
sequence of deep sleep

spaces you have never lived
pave their hollows into the brain

set off an equation
some other linguistic entity,

some field that shook its
stalks against a white porch light
in a storm

but that was not you there
somebody else

that is some other child now
at this very moment

who vanishes into a city
with memory of blues records

“Sally preferred the company of herself”
A window grey as a dream

or its many variants,
you observe the knots of wood
across an endless floor