i.

I lost track of my shadow a long time ago
but found it today   it knew just what to say:

but waited till dusk

and then blurted: “Where the hell have you been?”

ii.

I once had twelve fingers, now only ten
Two vanished in a battle, don’t remember

where or when

only that the enemy smote the freak

out of me and now I want him dead.

iii.

Having forgotten altogether more

than I currently know

I hang onto remembered dreams as if the wisdom

of all ages  swings precipitously out over a cliff

toward abeyance and I must grip the wit

or be dimmed.

iv.

People are a lot like the underwear

they wear    too fat or thin or tight or

stained with the blessings of sex

or less than popular transgessions of life

someone could probably (and may well) make use

of your dress or pants or shoes

but what market is there for your underwear

once your dead?

Happy Summer Solstice.  Tonight, pre-sunset, marks the transition. 

Oh, and go by and wish X a happy birthday. Seems she's a child of this passage.