The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

all at eyebeam:

memorial for my father, day four*

sleep lock leave

the house locking out, locking up,
memorials leave imprints like fossils.
1.shadows of the bed where i slept in my childhood,
2.shadow of the table at the corner of the bed:
the green table where i kept a photograph
of a hydrogen explosion,
of one of the eisenhowers,
of a united nations diplomat.

leaving, last words spoken.
i could walk this house with my eyes closed.
what's left is the phenomenology of space
and its corners eaten by mold.
untoward cocoons ravage the phenomenology.

mold corrals health, circumscribes breath.
and the woozy head can't think this phenomenology.


* the last day, when memory ends.
we retreat from the ashes like leaving a village in germany.
we have our names there under erasure. we call ourselves

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