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Author Message
katie
someone else's memories Mark Unseen   Sep 12 02:05 UTC 1991

       my walls are hung with pictures old and used

       each one beautiful and different.

       I collect them at garage sales, at antique fairs.

       some are pages out of books long disintegrated,

       some anonymous family relics disinherited.

       my walls are decorated with someone else's memories,

       dusty and two-dimensional, in rickety frames.

       my own history is in the custody of a cardboard box
       
       in the attic

       photographs filed, forgotten.  souvenirs of

       births and marriages and deaths.

       scrapbooks filled with the fancies of my mother's mother:

       bible quotes, calling cards, and every item about president

       eisenhower that ever appeared in the saginaw news.

       on a sunday every year or so I spend an evening in the

       attic, getting splinters.

2 responses total.
morgayn
response 1 of 2: Mark Unseen   Dec 6 15:20 UTC 1994

The piece you have entered strikes me, for it portrays what some of us seem to
have difficulty putting into words sometimes; the meaning and value of
memories.

nistel
response 2 of 2: Mark Unseen   Nov 8 16:51 UTC 1996

you seem to have that clearness of diction.  And to the last detail.
Yes, It is a good piece of work and my appreciation goes out to you.
Chao..
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