sometimes these things are written before i can know it…
and they are almost pre-memories…60-second writes if you
will. but i post anyway because the melody i hear still plays
after my words are gone and i love the song.


ode to a tuesday morning in november
(written on the final day of may, a friday)

some memories are not memories at all

they exist like sand on the beach
sounds of waves crashing or lapping

the taste of coffee
or smell of freshly ground coffee beans

memories that emerge as new experiences
yet are there before today

you are a memory and yet as you sleep
i watch and my mind goes to places
normally reserved for my fingertips

with closed eyes i can visit the contour of your lips
feel the rise and fall of your breasts as you sleep

your sounds are familiar
but are they memories?

music is a memory,
songs that cause me to visit yesterday

i see you there, in my song
and i love the melody

i love you