Untitled poems

have you lost something?

something that's asleep now,
like in a stupor,
forgotten,
curled up,
knee in mouth;


yes,its time itself.

Making pictures,
incomplete pictures,
not that color,
not that sound,
not the people,
not the city,
not the swoon,
not that fearlessness.

Memory makes me smile,
gives me the greatest of pains.