Thursday, August 11, 2011


I remember things I'd like to forget
and forget the things I'd like to remember.
Almost usually.
There are exceptions.

Wind sailing through hair
under half a bowling ball
ears ringing from biting

Ohio's wondrous August chill
blackened trees swirl and blur
trying to show themselves through the
pale reflection of the moon's constant struggle

The ride halted
bodies emerge
merging ageless
between perfect rows of heightened corn
and the wild, wooded land

the road expands
exploded for the moment
and contracts

pushed out of the foraging forest
into civility and convenience
where cell phone stuck world haters
absorb the dawn haplessly

watching with abandon
to abandon again

and living
smallest hour
I will remember
even if I forget

1 comment:

  1. I really resonate with your voice. You have a beautiful way of sharing your story.