To be forgotten or to forget
creates a cloudless sky.
No arctic pack can betray
its omnipotent howl.
Howls, both dark and good, do betray a few.
I see with a clarity of blindness,
as ‘one minute ago’ in itself
isn’t a fresh memory.
Neither is the wall, constantly tapping
its own temple;
the constant of which, contradicted by the very familiar seconds
which are now either left behind or still unknown –
a prominent plan.
I know, parts of me always remain scattered
in the past and the future
of a CD playback.
My amplitude is from fall to rise to fall.
as I don’t fear the fear, not to
and fear, if I do, forever.