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Nostalgic remnants

Nostalgic remnants pervade

A piece of chocolate cake
mostly eaten, its leftover brown
frosting, brown crumbs smeared on
an orange and yellowish plastic coated
paper plate—The leftover frosting clings
to a white plastic fork, like a special
kind of luck on your birthday

Origins are not easily found

It’s not a bright, sprightly love
It’s an intense, dark passionate love
founded in a churn of lust, guilt,
tenderness, excitement and grit
We couldn’t stand him, and yes,
we held a grudge—fretful,
forthright and small-tempered

Many years melded together

When a star explodes the universe
becomes more interesting, so far
away, so long ago—Compared to
that star, what are we?—As if the
world waits for a glimpse of our
genius—the true, the magnificent,
the profound, the godly, the great

She never wanted fame

Said John Brown “Let’s rise
up and bathe the slave states
in blood” He didn’t succeed but
a few years later and that’s exactly
what was done—Why’d they fight so
hard for slavery when most of them
owned nothing much and no one?

We develop ourselves through symbols

Super sensitive, bothered by little
things of no consequence to the
likes of you and me—There’s certain
things you don’t say if you want
someone to stay with you—Whether
you like it or not, Pagan, we’re just
singular stops in time’s slog

Unyielding probabilities govern

The language he learned when
young failed to reveal to him a true
philosophy so he made up his own
language—Oh the intoxication, oh
the illuminations—falsehood
is history and history’s damage,
both transactional and imperative

A restless, lucid, persistent mind

The old composer had had it with
rehearsal—The young violinist wanted
more—The old composer had had it with
his music for today—“Practice if you wish
but I’m going to the racetrack”—Can that
vibrant deaf drummer nevertheless hear her own
music despite lacking consciousness of sound?

Dark clouds break suddenly clear

-September 19, 2020-