Tag Archives: Memory

index iv.

index iv.


relationship of two

vanishing points when a person looks

directly toward the center of a room


location and characters



when two persons look directly

toward the center of a room

may be unified in scale

and hour


but not to endure, a location

where imitable habits of grandparents

that to live, are no longer


the new picture requires

rearrangement of vanishing points

minus a referent


requires a diet

of the next

favorite show

of salt, newsprint,

apple juice, a slice of Wonder


time passes quickly, for an eternity


on its side, a shelter can be decorated

with bricks for furniture, inside, strings for a guitar,

a table with removable segments,

a partial collection of puzzles and card games


layers of carpet and red brick,

formica, hand sewn fabrics,

wires behind drywall, and a roof

joins the house

to the sky


the area outside the frame

viewed with the so-called corner of the eye,

as an entity in itself












distance between window

and breath


to weave the City

from the inside—


a character

in the story multiplies—






someone you used to know


voice and mannerism,



only the glass

is free

of spirit

When moved.

When moved.



a storm travels

toward, and through.


Bright spring green

travels inward.



ritual persistence.


Children’s socks

clipped to the line

through a third




What’s the matter?



Big, round drops

to walk between.

To find a figure

just out of reach.







to carry memory

outside the body.





Much like this poem

Much like this poem


a child speaks in projective whisper

learned lessons from the clouds—


whereas, in high desert, projection laws

do not apply


blades of grass imply distinct edges;

to sever an edge is true

when held in memory


childhoods rove in waves—broken

toys and plastic chairs surface in the sand;

storybook territories continue to expand



unfinished lines hang there, threads

a line of thought paper thin, as a vacant

lot of known flowers in context

of what we don’t know


some lines calcify, locked in strata

where we put them and fill in sand

and sleep


when they find us

here, they’ll replace themselves

into the hollows left by these bones