Memory was never
the original chef.
For memory is
always cooking
and serving leftovers.
I pulled a gun
of memory
on the bank of now
and rob myself
of the future.
Who flies me
in their mind sky
only as a memory
holds me up for now
as blown away
into a projection.
Memory has served me
to honor truths
that have died.
Can memory come
to serve me,
to honor truths
before there are born?
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