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- JOHN HALE
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Cataract of memory
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- Mnemonic I - Getting of Memory
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- Read over your Greek book in
verse, you say.
- I say, Richard of York gained
battles in vain.
- Is that, then, what separates
us,
- anchoring our rainbows with the
mind's reflection,
- yours contemplative,
- mine hard-edged,
- each spectrum caught in memory's
arc
- like an unfulfilled promise?
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- One Atlantic night south of the
doldrums
- I saw a rainbow cast in silver
- across a vast Endymion of
sleeping water.
- We sailed towards it knowing
- it would recede like a mirage of
desire,
- like Selene herself.
- But we sailed - to find
ourselves within.
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- Endymion's fifty daughters,
fathered on the Moon,
- are potsherds of memory
- fractured and glistening on the
verge of time.
- The Greek book gathers dust,
- Richard's vainglory stilled,
- and Mnemon dead by Achilles'
sword
- for failing to remind him of
Thetis' warning.
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- Give me a pictograph of memory -
- tree in leaf, steady eye,
receptive heart -
- and my rainbow will blazon
- like the sun itself.
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- Mnemonic II - Future Memory
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- Flat on my back on the bed
- an old Qantas eyemask silencing
the winter sunlight
- hands shoved into the front-cut
pockets
- of the jeans you chose
- I think of you
- thirty six thousand feet up
there
- winging your hard won way
- to the hectic city, the golden
beach.
- While you're away
- I'll find some way to wile away
the time
- scribbling maybe
- walking the dog
- sipping the odd Jack Daniels
- for old Jack's sake.
- And you'll come back -
- surely?
- Mnemonic III - Mosaic of Memory
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- I see you on the gnarled jetty
in early mist
- in stillness facing south
- where sea and sky are one.
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- I see you cross-legged before
the logfire
- gracile fingers coaxing liquid
music
- your voice teasing the melody.
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- I see you arched above me
- curve of throat, tumult of gypsy
mane afire
- your lips apart.
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- I see you glisten naked in a
lunar night
- breasting a shimmering path
- through the moon-splintered
ocean.
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- I see you cycling ahead, fine
muscled, strong
- weaving the sun-flecked track of
sand towards a timeless village
- where women plait long tongues
of leaves.
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- I see you suckling your boy
child
- his arm waving gently
- in calm wonder.
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- I see you in soft focus through
the cataract of memory
- your hair a blaze of sunset
sharded in the moving river
- flowing outward, always outward.
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