XII

Memories of my family
have begun to peel
slivers of colors fading
in my mind
fractured pieces surface
and in with the tide
washes the dreadful feeling
that these memories are more
dream than reality
but then it seems kinder really
that I'm not sure these memories are
truth
if they're not real
I don't have to think about
where those dream-people
are buried.

XI

I remember when the roads
were dangerous

bandits begging me now
offering me all their stolen goods
as indulgences
to buy their souls passage to heaven

plagued
passage along dangerous roads

but I'm not headed to heaven
I'm leaving my body behind
for Ostrapalis
let it rot
let them rot