How did you get away?
You were the pet falcon of an old woman.
Did you hear the falcon-drum?
You were a drunken songbird put in with owls.
Did you smell the odor of a garden?
You got tired of sour fermenting
and left the tavern.
You went like an arrow to the target
from the bow of time and place.
The man who stays at the cemetery pointed the way,
but you didn’t go.
You became light and gave up wanting to be famous.
You don’t worry about what you’re going to eat,
so why buy an engraved belt?
I’ve heard of living at the center, but what about
leaving the center of the center?
Flying toward thankfulness, you become
the rare bird with one wing made of fear,
and one of hope. In autumn,
a rose crawling along the ground in the cold wind.
Rain on the roof runs down and out by the spout
as fast as it can.
Talking is pain. Lie down and rest,
now that you’ve found a friend to be with.
By Rumi.
Cornu Ammonis
My job is not to remember.
My sole function is to decide which memories I dismiss.
Of all the useless relationships that lay discarded by the dump
like limbs and pine straw from a season ago,
you were the most difficult to forget.
How did you get away?
I am selective amnesia.
Every move you make
is being recorded
and may be looped and recorded over if nothing eventful happens
today
in the corner store of your mind.
Label this as spatial profiling
What’s your orientation?
Oranges placed on the left side of the kitchen.
Mop in the corner. Mildewed tips tinged by what looks like creek water.
I think it had a red handle
but I discarded that with the 2314 other thoughts that I thought you didn’t need.
Right foot on pedal. Picking a quick petal. The generalizations that swirl
as a homeless man peddles puzzles somewhere on a street called Nevermind.
Generic, romantic greeting card magnetized to the refrigerator.
Candles and candies on the mantle,
wick buried in the middle.
I can rid you of any unwanted memory.
The fresh bouquet from an unrequited lover can vanish if you will it,
the solicited whispers in the ear of one turned bitter,
blisters on ballerina heels heal after the thrill of first recital.
And all that is remembered are the roses f r o z e n in time
right before they hit the stage.
I’m the catharsis forgetting brings
What suits you best?
Denial or regret?
Forgiving and forgetting are both specialties of mine.
So help me out and tell me, one more time,
what’s your name again, and, more importantly,
how can I help you?
by Dorian “Paul D” Rogers
