Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Memory


Memory. n. The scent of mold, as if death survives itself for one last explanation.


Update:
In the Forum: Hamm, Clov, Nagg, and Nell.

6 comments:

nouvelles couleurs - vienna atelier said...

... death leaves something, otherwise we will not explain life...


the way you saay this is so deep

Raven Rose ♥ said...

How wonderful you are with your words William. While I was reading your words I was thinking of the scent of earth...soil. A rich organic soil of which it could not be without the death and decay of a mixture of decomposing leaves, vegetation, and other matter. A rich soil that will help bring forth new life for the cycle of life and death to start anew~~~

Wine and Words said...

Oh I love this....assuming it is your own unique Websterian definition. And mold....one of my favorite vino scents, death of grape, swallowed in wake, my throat coated in sackcloth of memory.

William Michaelian said...

Death and life are the best of friends. Thank you, Laura.

Raven Rose, yours is a fertile mind and imagination. You do my little definition honor.

Annie of the Poem: so very nice; thank you.

Woman in a Window said...

My brain is not listening to my eyes. I keep reading explanation as exhalation. Either way, I am like a young teen in a photo booth with my two friends, life and death. None of us is well groomed.

xo
erin

William Michaelian said...

Perfect. Maybe your brain is listening, and mine isn’t. And maybe “survives” is really “revives.”