Hippocampus
The sights,
the smells,
the sounds
that rumble my memories,
shaking me from the musty roots
of my buried senses,
that rattle
my epistemic indifference
to a vivid blur of remembrance…
I can recall
where I had been,
perhaps only in a dream,
by electrical signals lodged
deep in my brain,
microscopic, chemical explosions—
carefully placed, firing
between synapses—
in my hippocampus…
Reliving lost time
and existing again
where only nostalgia
can salvage
the lingering thoughts,
an open diapason
that fluidly resonates
the forgotten timbres
of the past…
Tasting something,
hearing a song,
whatever…
retraces the world that
tumbles over itself
and into this one,
and I feel calm
seeing it once again,
even if it is only a mirage…
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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