"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Thursday, March 31, 2011

A Father There.

Old photos
broken frames;
It's all I have
but it's not the same.
Visceral childhood dreams
of you--
Your hair is tame,
and your voice is lame
but you are my father
With heavy, wakening eyes
you are simply
a man
unknown to me.

- - -

I was going to put up a big angry rant about my father to go with this. I even had it all typed out-- but then a hard lump worked its way into my throat, so I deleted it all. So you fellas just get the poem today.


  1. So sad, a fatherless child's story. I'm old-fashioned and think most kids need two parents. I'm sorry if that's not the case for you. (Makes me want to hug my son)

    That lump in your throat means your heart was put into it. You should re-write it, even if you never post it. It's in you and needs to get out.

  2. JB - met my dad when I was thirty (for about 20 seconds). He told me this: "you're taller"...haven't seen him since. I don't have photos to spawn poems. My mom chucked them all out.

  3. just happened to click on your blog and found your poem. got a lump in my throat as well. keep writing-it's a great catharsis and you're very talented.

  4. Thanks for this poem JB. Maybe a better gift then a rant even.


"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."