Photo: Creative Commons


mind of mine

born in another

were this possible

would this poem be different


forgetting where I walk

not remembering your name

my million lapses in synapses

as unreliable as knowing where falling leaves land

would you be tinted in the same crimson colors


the same childhood fears

memories matured with time

dreams intact

words as natural

science as mysterious

layers of soil covering archeological artifacts

would you find the same


privilege re-matched to a skin

social circles redrawn in ovals

a home on a hill

where I see my former self without knowing him

would life be so different


though I can never know the possibility

my mind rests under a late afternoon sky

consciousness drifts into chaparral, into dry soil

beheaded with the thought of elsewhere

another plane

through another’s eyes


then red sun

I think to myself:

were this poem spoken

in other words

would it too end here


One Comment to “beheaded”

  1. This is so good, Ben! I hope you have submitted it for publishing! Ahhh! The layers upon layers of our psyche, tricking us, overwhelming us, causing our minds to travel to other lands, alternate universes, our feet far from the ground, gravity absent! And I love your oval reference to social circles! I picture Venn Diagrams with all those we love intersecting and not. Must publish!

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