FRANKENSTEIN REMEMBERS 

“My theme is memory”

― Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

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I sympathize with the modern YouTube Youth—

the Facebook Tweet Generation who are just 

as ignorant as I am. One can’t be confident 

what's been taught to us or what's been left 

out. These young people have such a smart-ass, 

know-it-all, chatty, textual surface so easily 

Erasable just like mine…

Like, quite suddenly my quickie chatty surface—

as sleek and smooth as skating on thin ice breaks 

and I get a chance to peer down into depths of

nothingness that I didn't know even existed 

within the context of the English language!!!

I’ve often felt during aimless nights dreaming—

that I’ve lost my billfold, my whatever identity, 

that I’ve left a part of myself behind somewhere, 

and that wherever I go afterwards I always feel 

lost in some strange but familiar Dream City

The lack of clothes too, I suppose with all its—

Freudian associations & various tacky castration

complexes does little to keep me from feeling 

like a ghost, frequenting the spots where I once

lived but now I’m lost in some nether world

I’m not a complete human being at all. I’m a strange

hodgepodge of various organ transplants, most of them 

commandeered by Ygor from the Morgue or by accident 

like the jar of the rapist-murderer that Colin Clive 

used for my tortured brain after having been hanged 

from the scaffold of a Crossroad… 

I’m a tiny bit of many men, unnaturally developed, 

various organs in bottles, tainted organs kept alive 

in the Baron Frankenstein’s laboratory. I think I am 

a sort of multiple-primitive savage, yet still 

something absolutely modern and up-to-date that 

only this ghastly age could produce. Many pieces of me pretending I’m human, that’s all I am