It's very bright
and green here
behind my eyes,
the color of Spring.
I'm used to that
and I live where I loved.
.
I don't know you.
I've forgotten all
but traces. New dreams
are eating the memories.
.
Perhaps I lay
under the pumping sun.
Perhaps I find
old strands of unused
language. Perhaps the
shadow of something
from time and place
surprises me. It's all
new and present.