The human mind tends to sway in

and-out

of thought

best when it is in a meditative state. A ghost-state,

where spirits float from room to room, rocking me to sleep.

I. I ask them if they’ve ever been here before, and they answer: “Yes.”

II. I then ask “When?” and they say “Often.”

III. I’m not sure what to make of this finding. A most-definite sense of discomfort.

Ghosts are our thoughts when we rest our heads at night. Thoughts: a collection of ghosts. A form of embodied cognition.

Does this mean, then, that our memory is just an act of coming-and-going? What does this tell us— memory shifting with the inclination of age? Of time?

*

Sigmund Freud termed Screen Memories as a “. . . distorted memory. . . [usually] from childhood. . . that unconsciously serves the purpose of concealing or screening out.” A poem is a distorted memory, its form different from a past reality. This is how I would describe it:

Screening, masking, cutting

the edges of memory to make

something more circular.

Types of edges the mind

bounces to and from, never

missing a corner. I try to

think circularly, no conceal

ment. I don’t think I know

one writer who has a mind

completely circular. There

tends to be some sort of

distortion. Or dystopia.

A possible interchange

of thought.