a poem in lieu of prose

So much more to write, so much more in the world, but only briefly this. It's a stanza from a poem of Larry Levis entitled "Rhododendrons":

As I wrote this,
some blown rhododendrons are nodding
in the first breezes. I want
to resemble them, and remember nothing,
the way a photography of an excavation
cannot remember the sun.

What, moments in life that beg to be forgotten, as though they never happened.