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Poetry and essays about poetry

Monday, September 22, 2003

Caveat

"Imagination and memory are but one thing". – Thomas Hobbes

When asked if it were true,
I then replied,
β€œIs it really so important?”
that I pass you
tenderly from one darkness
to another?
What use are my recollections?
Soapy, graying –
stagnant, grown lukewarm by time
as most of the past is
old bathwater
swirling down the drain.

For what I thought I knew
keeps changing
with every new revelation
I encounter.
We simply don't forget;
we re-remember.
Memory ceaselessly redrafts
the short story
we curiously call "My Life".

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