dues

Re-member-you were

One once before going so-

lo(w) and beholden.

By Lady Lawley (c. 1914) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Scratching heads, Sniffing tails

Do you remember how it was 

before we found zero?

Everything had value

and volume

that occupied more than space.

Would it be a lie to reminisce 

about the days before we found fire?

Why

it was black and

white Then powerfully portable

to ashen grey 

as it smolders to day.

This is why they burnt everything they

wrote.

Nostradamus was nervous,

rightly so, paranoia will destroy 

any weak one in its path.

Have you considered what was 

eerie to Einstein should stay 

Unknown, no?

Theoretically,

the words slept green and furious

and letters 

stopped coming...

There was nothing before-

Us, the Big Bang, the Virgin Mary,

a flaring forth, why 

is the sky blue-again?

Truth be told,

matters only

in youth. 

And then the missing link

before Us.

The radiant sun, 

lights the night and moon

in twirling moods, the pi spinning

itself in dark matters,

starlight never seemed

so bright and worth while...

Painting by Jan Mandijn (circa 1500–circa 1560) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Remember it so

By now,
neurologists all know
we lie
and believe what
is so
vivid enough to make
it so-
in our alternate reality,
what we call memory.

Who was there to witness
it so-
they can testify the truth
as it happened by view
they say-
it is,
so we believe it.

Duality seems determined
by a parallelogram sent
from another timeline
started forever ago,
we think we know
it so-
Infinite possibilities
project our stories,
our memories,
our-one time-
gone another way.

So tell it all ways, build
it so
intricate and elaborate, that
it is
simply the best story
only you know
by now.




Image of painting by John White Alexander [No restrictions or Public domain], Memories (1903) via Wikimedia Commons.

Finders Keepers

I steal everything.
Every thing I find
interesting I keep.
And I confess,
it is crowded and cluttered
but I am still collecting
all the things I like.
That stuff that was already here
when I got here,
all the stuff
and all the stuff in the stuff
is never enough
I still want more...
For I am warning you
to guard what you show me,
I might (definitely) steal a glance
and there is a more than (likely) chance
that I have stolen all these words-
certainly someone has found them,
used them,
thought them
before me.
Before me, it was all ready there
waiting to be found
and unforgotten
lying around like antique truths
until some one
like me
re-members them,
and re-collects them.
Paraphrased for portability,
praised for poetic quiddity,
too, you know-
nothing you do is new
everything you say
has been said another way
and in brief
I am a thief
but on that note,
don't (Ms.) quote me
with words I never wrote.




Image of painting by Charles Joseph Grips [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, entitled 'Opportunity makes a thief', (1875).

Practice: ars oblivionalis (art of forgetfulness)

Don't forget
fingers wag
feature flicks
with you
in them
Don't forget
they ask
my name
return it wrong
as though
I forgot
all along
Don't forget
the warning
lost memories
are golden
Don't forget 
about my
filtered words
trickle down
your neck
Don't forget
why
you're here
you chose
to remind
and return
the thought
I lost
but didn't
Re-remember
my name
the same.



Image of painting By Arkhip Kuindzhi (1842-1910), Moonlight Thinking (http://gallerix.ru/album/Quingy) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.