There is no other way to describe the sensation of
there is no other way to unscry
there is no other way,
there is no other,
there is no there.

There is nothing
there is nothing I can do
there is nothing I can do to understand
that there is no way for you to understand it
in the way that I do,

The way that I do
the way that I do this is
the way that I do this is by easing into it,
easing into inscribing the inexplicable for you
and your eyes to fathom
the light sinking from
the bottom

where our drifting away from it all
meets in a haloed crowning
passing on like a cloud
or any other dirty
memory saved,
any other memory
saved for another day.

no memory is the same twice
no memory is the same
no memory


Shasta said...

we could have a seriously long discussion about this poem....jesus...

we rewrite our memories every moment.... memory is an art like poetry.... memory fades... memory never records wholly or objectively....

thorngrubber said...

Interesting observations on memory, there.
Glad you liked the poem - my own satistaction with it is tentative, at best. But now that I see someone got something out of it - I am satisfied with it.