I’m not sure when I scribbled this poem on a loose sheaf of note paper (now in the “Final” file along with empty cans and banana peals as all illegible scribbles later clarified end) that suggests there was at one time more to it. Still, it stands on it’s own as a contemplative piece.


Through memory
Catching on the web of it
Hurtling through the thick of it

In to the past
Hanged on every word of it
Passing through the heart of it

By the act
Bleeding with the pain of it
Shooting past that part of it
To someplace better

I find
that stepping to the side
of the ongoing ride
to watch it rolling by
while I
frozen in a space
about the size of nothing
and staring
at the slowly melting something
leaving just the core
while the unreality of it all
falls away
just makes me want to smile



Image: “Orion” by Liu Yu

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