Beginning with Little Edie

It’s very difficult
        to keep the line
                between the past
and the present,
        awfully difficult.
                Just as impossible
to translate the words
        from your head
                onto paper, or
worse a screen.
        It’s not the faces
                I see that give
me grief, it’s more
        the fact I’ll never
                see them again,
at least not with
        these senses, for
                the next minute
I become the medium
        through which all
                experience is
filtered. I wasn’t born
        with this faculty,
                it just came to me
as in a dream.
        I don’t know what
                I’ll call it.
Perhaps it doesn’t need a name.