flashes of life

are all I have really, 
these fleeting memory moments
in sum adding to a 
life lived not exactly
me, more
a reminder of a version
a character's story unwinding
roads meandering across miles
and years, decades of storylines
eventually converging to a single
spec of time
exists only
i can see it
a sweeping history
narrowing to the faintest, tiniest
a pinprick of light in the moment
exploding into an entropic 
future unknown
scope of this life
is yet incomplete
memories roll and rumble 
connected, one leading to the next
doesn't convey an order
understood by anyone
outside of this body
tells the story:

organic washed out tones and soft shag
see under the table and straining to reach
some salvation as the 
disastrous cacophony
wall shaking
pleading to please 
stop; 

I'm flying
unbound by gravity and incoming
faith leapt toward

salvation cold to the touch and 

covered in coal dust

of memory unsure

which came before; 

that wall

integrated in my mind

a map of previous

wild running

I am hurt, but

i do not hurt

protected by providence

the sky opened and 

sustaining life, but oil slicked

roads and drink and speed

and careening for exactly 

me, but 

I remember how the body

crumbled and 

fractured fiberglass and

shattered glass

and bent metal, 

my body whole and bounding down

to wherever was next; 

so many ghosts

that brick shell standing

we crawl inside

exploring the damp

lives brought into and out of 

this physical world it fought

physics,

the immutable laws

of life in that neighborhood

held us all in the same contempt

just under the surface

realizing which

side of the tracks are you 

standing now

2500 miles away; 

I went at some point

up the mountain

freedom of a sort

air tasting different

kind of alone

surrounded by something

unknown until feeling undeniable

I felt at home;

left behind

up a ribbon of asphalt curving 

my circulatory system alive in those 

green hills rolling less

into the built world

at first all the pieces into place just

so, I was set

in theory only works

becoming second nature to 

is quitting a necessary step to every

there was one;

there was no quitting

some things last

thought i have each 

dreaming of a time and place

and those faces

never downcast in 

memories live forever

eventually happens that

we keep growing

older in some ways and 

younger selves imagining a future

filled with what 

i wonder how near or far

today is from yesterday’s

tomorrow;