Poetry in Vitro - Volume 4, No.2

Mnemonic Reprise
(or What a day for a Daydream.)


Slap me until I bleed
recollections that access synaptic
addresses of memory – a backdraft
of musical encores - stimulating
a piece of relative back-time.

What were we then?
Figments or filaments of each other:
reflections of apprentissage,
the speed at which you speak
syllables of despair.

A morning shave and the nick
that spreads across the universe
of disjointed portraits of a self-
deprecating Dorian Gray existence:
a stab at the Methuselan mystique.

I have a recurring reverie
that does not include
this twenty-first century
schizoid man -
a dream that ends here.

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