Brains Folding in Memory

memories is another word we use for remembering
My remembering has creases in them
Folds where there were remembering
And Folds where there weren't
Because I didn't remember them

I don't remember light-bright with Jill
It was the silver-lining to being locked down.

I don't remember my Mom singing out of tune,
Because her violin was always so, so, beautiful.

These are memories written down and revisitable.
A story telling about something interesting,
But the truth only lasts in the telling,
And remembering the last time I remembered.

I can examine the grape,
And remember how he laughed and played in the sun.
All the friends he had and lost,
All the family of leaves supporting their group.
All the institutions holding up grape to sky
To eternally kiss the rain heaven sent.
But my memory of sweet wine does not hasten them,
The grapes continue to play until days end
When fate is ready to receive them back into earth.

Then they're full grown, they greet the sun
 without memory, without examination
But return rememberance to their grapes clustered with friends
And support them with their wherewithal they command.
This is not a memory I have of vineyards,
These are remembrances of what I remember of my friends
Clustered there under sun, and helping train the course
Of my world, of my height, by what we remember when we learned about life.

And how I've carried myself back into Sun,
And trained my world after near-death
And subsequent burial in shit.
To bring fruit to you!
Merely by remembering the last time I remembered, too.