Another new poem   Leave a comment

In the Memory Zoo

In the Memory Zoo, people are wild;

Things get grey if you look at them too long.

There are artifacts, but not for purchase.

Yearning to see a certain memory,


You may not see it—“That one is sleeping

Behind the wall,” the zookeeper tells you,

Or “That memory has a strange sickness,

So it was removed from the exhibit.”


After an hour in the Memory Zoo,

You feel too tired to go on, you look for

An exit, a way back to the Present,

Saying to yourself “I’ll be back, and I’ll


See that strange, sick memory…”  You walk straight

Toward the gate of the Present—to your fate.


Posted June 1, 2012 by phringo in Uncategorized

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