Poetry from Thailand

Original poetry written in and about rural Thailand.

My Photo
Location: Chong Khae, Nakhonsawan, Thailand

Saturday, April 7, 2012

My Boyself

Now old, I like to watch myself
as a boy. It’s not narcissism, although
seeing that reedy boy when no one
else is looking is voyeurism of a sort.
Sadly, he’s a vision that doesn’t change,
no matter how much I wish he would.
Falling bodies in falling on are locked
into orbits that hurtle through emptiness
and my boyself never speaks, never
does anything different.  I hear
footfalls from then and the thunk of
a clutch pedal when released or the
smell of homemade bread, but my
boyself never speaks, he never does
anything different.

FG Opening Day 2012

All rights reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood.

The persistence of memory is voiceless.  A poet searching for his voice is not far from the subject of this poem, I think.