Memo From Amnesia
Windswept memos go beneath feet underwhere
Culls my soil's grave to tuck dreamt longings
Further sown than never known to shoot up blades.
Like any other cover...
All soil is a veil of no avail.
No season escapes frequent returns of
Thoughts leaving soon to nest with the loner child
Who, as a wayward summer rose, up may
Spring through the snowdrift...
My heartbeats are servant drum-chants
Raising huge aural trestles to guide
Safely strayward my infantine preoccupations
That navigate this vessel of flesh
Distilling a tranquil boyhood unhappiness
Into bottles lying near the dry ravine
Where paper food-wrappers tease mourning
Fingers to caress as abandoned floats
The debris of don't-forget-me notes
Left by the vanished water, its absent
Flow aroma of irretrievable rhythms
Takes nature home everywhere.
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