I sift through my history,
scrawled down on
napkins,
snippets,
paperbags,
in notebooks
(still do).
I read what I've felt and sit in
hownaïve I once was
(still am).
I once thought
with the mind of theyoung man
I see hanging
on my
mother's wall
(never stopped).
Inever thought
life would come
to the point of
trying to forget
all Inever thought
I could remember
(never will).
But here I sit
onceagain,
jotting,
scribbling,
pondering
life
(continuing).
Ithink of what I used to
consider differently
and how my work from
yearspast was that of a
child
(still is).
Isit,
jotting,
scribbling,
pondering
(to you!):
What if oneday,
the genius I am
creating now is
that of my psyche at
this time...
(What then?)