Shanghai Stuff

In retrospect

there is a black space

it seems to seep between the perspective and emotion that occurred

fading around the edges as if decaying

almost depicting a fuzzy television screen as if

as if we are some how wave lengths of red green and blue that

missed the capturing field

I try to seem the frames together like splicing film

attempting to remove the darkness that stares back at me in memory

each connection leaving gaps of unaccounted for time

moments that if left unchecked can devour the lightened versions of the past

a hole that never ceases to consume the forgotten

their unknown journey only keeps my remembering fingers sewing at the edges frantically

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