Portia is inside my mind
probing my memories
extracting, sorting them
into data –
looking for knowledge
of the virus
the only thing that can
save us from servitude
Nostalgia always comes with a bit of bad memory
back in the day, I remember life being calmer
but who’s to say?
My father stumbled in stadium parking lots drunk back in those days
+ I still had depressions that didn’t seem to go away
So what’s so different ’bout back then + the present day?
I was a mess in college.
Two years before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I was enrolled at a university in New York with somewhat of a life trajectory, a moral compass, and many good qualities.Continue reading
History is collective memory, and it’s always subject to correction.
It’s written by winners, whether daughters of despots or democrats. They build bronze statues that inform us of what happened, who’s calling the shots, who owns the space you occupy.
As the city convulses, an ex-mayor’s monument is fractured, beat to the ground. Our historical texts must be rewritten, newspaper editors must be removed, the revolution must be televised and live streamed to your social media feeds, and you must forget what you’ve learned because
there are new facts.
Heavy boxes stacked in the bedroom,
you’re moving again, amid the pandemic.
We’ll see another part of Philly, add to
the memories we’ve made – even if we’ll
be wearing masks and hunkering down.
We’ll find a new coffee shop, we’ll walk new
streets, taking pictures every so often
that’ll be in a book next year that celebrates
our time together.
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Original poetry | Poem is me
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein