The life is always better
Than the story of the life.
The life is itself. Stories
Are forms of comparison
Among lives, or, actually
Among more stories of lives.
Readers love stories of lives.
Listeners love them as well.
We are all fine narrators
And attentive listeners,
Reading the signs of our lives
We turn over in our minds.
It’s easy to forget things,
Tragic to forget too much,
But it would be a relief,
A great gift, just to forget
The story lines of our lives.
There’s a nuthatch on this branch
And a memory in mind
Of other, similar times.
Nothing connects them. They are,
We’re me, and it’s strange. That’s fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.