Packing up and moving tends to turn up tid bits of memories. It's one of the best things about shifting through hours of papers to find the gems that are worth taking with you.
I found some little poems I wrote while I was traveling about Europe and such. I thought they were good enough for blog, so here you go:

Notes on the Train de Bayonne

behind me
why do old ladies smell like
molded time
or drifted smoke stuck
rotten
burned too late

Chubs and Co.
Baby faced sloth
Accent on Tea
Sugar in Coffee
If I poked him
how far
would my finger go?
ew
dough boy laughs

Beached
I wish I were a kid again
when cold didn't exist
when all the clouds
in the world would
not have kept me out
when there was nothing to
adjust
or show off
or wish for more or less
just
water.sand.sky.
getting lost in hours of
water
hours won to the water

Modesty
not even boobs
her name should
just be
tits
the whole beach can see her
they know where she is
my sickly sweet
sweater brain
testosteronies found the spot
I'm looking for the water...
tits
such a great view!
tits
look how many situps I can do
tits
maybe just too curious
to hold inside
the teeny tiny top
stretched it too far