Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Forgetting the Past, Moving On (2004)

It's jut not that easy.
The new is decorated with the past.
I am sitting on it.
I tell time by it.
The room is lit by it.
It is cleanly framed and
organized by shape.
It is collecting in cabinets.
It hangs neatly in closets.
It is this notebook,
a Christmas gift from last year.

My home is a fucking calendar
with a different object
to represent a different day.
1976,1998,1981, 2003.
Yesterday's mail.

My past collecting dust no less.

I can't tell you one thing
that represents me in the now
(not even this poem written 5 years ago now)
on October 10, 2004.

I've got this
but even this gets old
and even a new this
becomes old too quickly.

That's all it really can be,
isn't it.

This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This
This

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