May 2014
Raise, for your experiences, a city.
Build a warehouse, down the block,
Where you’ll keep the cosmos.
Build a bookshelf, within a brownstone,
Where some other things can go.
Like the time you grasped a flower,
Felt beneath, felt the spines that
Pricked your skin,
Made you cry.
But that shelf will be revisited many times,
In this fragile, crumbling zip code,
Forsaking more majestic memory palaces,
Because the vision reached your soul,
Through pain,
Of all that beauty, soft, red, enfolded into itself,
On such a slender stem.
Build a warehouse, down the block,
Where you’ll keep the cosmos.
Build a bookshelf, within a brownstone,
Where some other things can go.
Like the time you grasped a flower,
Felt beneath, felt the spines that
Pricked your skin,
Made you cry.
But that shelf will be revisited many times,
In this fragile, crumbling zip code,
Forsaking more majestic memory palaces,
Because the vision reached your soul,
Through pain,
Of all that beauty, soft, red, enfolded into itself,
On such a slender stem.
Revel in the joy, but don't forget the pain. It is your god-given right and a valuable ally once accepted and befriended.
One of the devices for memorizing inordinate amounts of data is to imagine a place and travel through it, mentally, placing items here and there along the way. Recall is achieved by simply traveling through this imaginary space again, where the logic of placement becomes a natural mnemonic for recall. Time and Memory are themes I find myself flying to again and again. The flower was a person I felt wounded by, but learned that nothing is as it seems.
Hear it here, read by the author:
http://soundcloud.com/warmphase/the-memory-palace
One of the devices for memorizing inordinate amounts of data is to imagine a place and travel through it, mentally, placing items here and there along the way. Recall is achieved by simply traveling through this imaginary space again, where the logic of placement becomes a natural mnemonic for recall. Time and Memory are themes I find myself flying to again and again. The flower was a person I felt wounded by, but learned that nothing is as it seems.
Hear it here, read by the author:
http://soundcloud.com/warmphase/the-memory-palace
