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Memory Catcher before/after It is dark. Memories flow about the house. Laying claim to memories. Memories of not long ago. Not too old. Some attatched to certain songs, music throbs out in the house. Miss, miss? Coffee for my soul, please. What the hell am I doing here? And what horrible shit have they pumped into me this time, this thing that makes my hands shake, makes my loins quake, feel like a lion without a tail. Now hold it right there. What did that take...take? Take like meaning, dozens soldier tombstomes stride side by side, Not the friendly stride...not the friendly white crosses, of Arlington or in my palm, But not now, in my palm now, Arlington, crosses, white crosses, All right, we've got to settle on a driver for the bus, My fuckin' hands shake....what is this this this Know...know...you know...what they did, you did, they did she did she did, Memories best felt, best felt fuck! One driver, one driver too many is right, loose lips with minutes to go slip seconds, sloppy seconds, with seconds to go, Feel is good, lay claim to what is what was, What is to be, and be again always, Not the easy crown...crowd....where did all the jitters go? Jesus with an afro. I saw a wasp fan...shake...shake...shake... A WASP fan...replete with the spookiest picture of Jesus, White jesus with red hair, I ever seen in my life.... Now, stop, hold on, hold it right there...shake shake shake Drugs, are bad. Shake shake shake Memories of mountains, big stupid beautiful mountains, Ground cracked and crunched up really, No fate in that, no not how they grow them nowadays, Swarming with spirits, Or so they say, but not really, not really, You'd be surprised. A few Indians, s'bout it. Always a few Natives, you know. Anywhere, they were here for a long fuckin time, static, Here, just here, here though here, A well of memories, mix with my new-old soul, with eyes that never quite looked right on a child I was more than I can say saw more than I was old before I was born but old in the ancient ways of blood and death and birth and sex and drugs and love and music and dancing. I think I'd like to live a few years more. You know years, like ears or sheaves bringing in the sheaves, the falling leaves, purple and gold and red, Aspen gold thick through the hills, like the thinning on your father's head, gray then fade, fade all around again, Arlington's all around, new cross in town, got there from white crosses they say, Who knows about the dead these days, New souls in the neighborhood, clambor around me like I'm the honeypot, desperate to know enlightenment, though they most don't know it some figure it out, others wait for me to die, so they can question me with empty minds, naescent minds, grasping at straws, just know its good to be around. Playing on hardwood floors, drinks and booze and carousing, Trying to grasp the memories as they slide by, but lost, I want to own, slow, behind the times, to own the times, the past, the present, the "now" of the soul, the "now" of this old soul, being then, and not now, And I don't mean just then now, the past, or the recent past, or a few moments from now, anyway. Pass me by, my rebellious children, my children, they, all.
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