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I remember everything.

One thinks not. That to

forget is so easy. Yet no.

You'd be wrong. Even

the love, the church-bells

peale. It rings still

in my ear, making coiled

journey to brain, to heart.

One wants only light

without the dark,  yet this

aspires to nothing...

like a church spire

demolished, one still

sees the ghost of it

The faint echo  of what was.

Yesterday's phantom; it haunts,

jangles seductive, noisy chains

but it is the now in which I live.

I will not give myself over

to  the memory. I choose 

the ever present present.

Fuck the old ghosts.

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