1/30/2024

Loss of Memory

The dry, white mold

scraped 

from the pages 

of all your old books

and the ant-black ink

laid 

in your own hand

falling away 

along with it.


[LSS, 1/30/24]


at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Midnight Snack I am stuffing my mouth with whole, rotting cantaloups, caravans of them, to avoid being the one who eats that precious...

  • (no title)
    Diagnostician A realistic bobcat creeps through my bedroom kittenish but still wild, my mattress shifts keep it at bay. You brought those sp...
  • (no title)
    Flashback There you are  looking at me taking a picture  of you looking  at me as  you see for  the first time  and have yet  to l...
  • (no title)
    I Ching, Hexagram 19 (Approaching)   for the first place I am rooted in place face your air finger tracings how you delineate bo...