I Remember...

I Remember

If your I in the world has
life in the world, against collective
masks which are ramparts to
be pushed past, there is little to
remember but luck; even
anguish vindicated, even

discomfort blessed in its
wretched restlessness. You
were young & heedless then,
your I not noticing mirages
you were forced to splash
around in— brittle lips,
skins, faces, ointments

applied to pixilate against
the integrity of the real. Your
I was joined by others of
your ilk, possessed by
visions, narratives, stoned
on history’s absolute rocks.

Now, I remember how I’ve
been charmed— thunder &
lightning only equipped to
disperse the right battalions,
fighting in empty space for
the non-existent; heartiness

of nudes, on/off webbed walls—