Home > Fragments > The Book of Forgetting

The Book of Forgetting

July 3, 2012

by Robin Chapman

Those chimes—

I remember wind, but this music is new

***

Your face—hello, old friend.

That name I knew you by?

***

How I spend my days?

sparrow, sparrow—and now the squirrel, leaping

***

I open my mouth—saxophone elbows sousaphone,

the closet of musical instruments a jumble

***

Such a short distance to walk.

Falling? I never fall.

***

Immense space beyond quiet—

was this what the Buddha knew?

***

What I did yesterday—

a blank page


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Robin Chapman’s poems have appeared recently in Alaska Quarterly Review, Prairie Schooner, Wilderness, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. She is author of seven books of poetry, most recently Abundance and the eelgrass meadow.

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  1. Tony Acarasiddhi Press
    July 3, 2012 at 4:48 pm

    Lovely.

  2. July 3, 2012 at 5:31 pm

    Enjoyed this, as well as identified with it.

  3. July 3, 2012 at 5:35 pm

    A delight! Makes me think of Neruda’s Book of Questions. That sense of wonder and yearning is here.

  4. July 3, 2012 at 9:40 pm

    This is lovely – actually makes me feel that forgetting may lead to enlightenment!

  5. Don Mantooth
    July 6, 2012 at 9:30 am

    How easy to forget. How hard to remember. The coming of the blank page worries me. Not for me, but for those who love me and will labor to watch over me.

  6. Peter Newton
    July 8, 2012 at 7:35 pm

    Robin,

    The mouth as a closet of musical instruments — very nice — I will remember this.

    Thanks,

    –Peter

  7. October 31, 2012 at 1:12 pm

    Wonderful jumble of beautiful thoughts–each complete in a fragmentary way. Mary

  8. Barbara LaMorticella
    December 29, 2012 at 4:19 am

    Oh yes, beautiful. Makes me hear those chimes.

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