Where I Begin

Where to begin haunts after-event phantoms of 

effigies. You can’t recall placing them succinctly 

in clear-voiced plastic visions or storing them in 

an annexe you’d remember easily; oh no, not in 

eons - you only know what’s missing. That’s the 

concreteness you’re standing on. Which, as an 

indisputable fact, gives directional sense; thus 

contiguous edges lurk out there, somewhere 

So we’re looking for anomalies, bends & cracks 

in a continuity you know has beginnings in gaps 

of your memory; you can guess you weren’t into 

thinking clearly, if at all, and that’s the best clue 

you’ve discerned - yet where was I when it was 

clear I had already stopped thinking 

Aha, right here. So this is where I begin 

© 4 November 2013, I. D. Carswell