Ode to Nostalgia

Vertigo memories

materialize, slowly coming into focus;

transparent memories with

vibrant gut-feelings.

A sensory soup of yesterday,

that time I began feeling in

overwhelming waves,

when all I wanted to do

was live in the moody sphere

of my verdant visions.


Standing here, now

in the same body, but with

light-pink scars and

chiseled with experience,

I look out an open window,

silently observing patterns of city movement.

My bones ooze melancholic joy of

adolescent hours spent

looking at tall country pines sway in the gentle wind;

how I imagined looking through the hole

I gaze through now.


I relish in the vibrations,

they echo in the mucus between brain and skull,

reflections unveil the

truth of my own fibers.

I wonder about future crystal visions,

as my bones re-absorb their

nostalgia juice.

Here’s to the

distortion of time, the

naive self beneath my skin and to the

the ache of feeling now and then

as one.