I knew more
than I know now

I still know as many
but I think of none

I have embraced this familiar ailment
unconsciously even though I remember
how it was before

Without it I was fun and
appealing and wanted in
the midst of all activity and
flamboyant and present always in
the minds of my friends and
full of vigour and life and
desires that I shared and was privy to and
open and honest but
never myself

Portrait of a Family

The little boy smears across it

Older hands waving and grappling
But never together or when so
Too strong and vehement

Here and gone and here
The rhythms are very personal
And different and cherished

The tallest aren’t the fairest or the wisest
They belong in separate frames
Only arched ivory borders for them

Something’s amiss
The little boy is too quick and too young
He invites me but I cannot abandon this