Ballad for a Hungry Ghost

a poem about lost memories

Past lives in present futures
Walk deadly amidst the mist
A shadow emerges in shade light,
As rose specters in the sky unite
Hanging their heavy laundry in the air
Powerless, we cannot resist,
The search for life’s great repair

A wintery, wasted garden.
Living ghosts and graces
Echo last year’s laughter,
Hardened in stoned burden
Here, we are laid to rest.
These faceless forms are etched eternal
Eternity could happen more than once
In the turning of days nocturnal


Moving on, we often move backwards
Worlds that precede worlds of disdain
Beneath the dead flesh, time, words
I looked for you time and time again
Neither apparent nor apparition
Our existence is only mutual.

We danced in a paper apartment,
Origami suits and presents
We lived like frail lanterns,
Soon, they burn these golden leaflets
Along with our pop up, cut out hearts.
In a pitiless auction for human things
They make their way to a faraway place,
Of disaffection and broken human parts.

We have left this ash-covered world
No black and white photographs
There is no technology for time
No escape from this daily rewind.
Refugees of movement and history
We died long before our deaths.