Father’s Day

Oh, what a day
to get out
with the sun
no, not up
that too easy
waking is
very normal and very common
an action that requires no will
unlike working
which 66% do at-will
in exchange for small change
and less development of skill
that too hard
treating people like people is
very abnormal and very uncommon

On Sundays,
father gets out
just for fun
no, not church
that too easy
praying is
very close to talking on the phone
with someone who takes efficiency
…very seriously…
like his boss’s boss
or the call out with a sick kid
in exchange for 2 days of rest
counting Sunday
except this one
being a holiday

I get out
despite rain clouds
in spite of depression
because I get it
how my burned daylight
could be conflated
with disrespect
for parents who work
for every father in my lineage
especially Dad
who still puts in overtime
for no pay
but the security
that his job is safe
thereby his house is safe
should there ever come
a sick kid
to come in.

April Fools

Come in, little lamb.
Let me teach:
“How to Bake a Shepherd’s Pie”
In as many days as it takes
For us to die.
That’s not to say
You’re slow at learning
or Death is coming quick.
Don’t be stupid.

Don’t be the Jack who cries
at tripping the candlestick.
Boy, that’s no wolf or foul,
Just a shadow [of doubt].
Be nimble. Hear me out.
Bend your ear to an idea
of Education by which
Practice makes better
is non sequitur.

How to define better,
When tastes change
With the season;
When butter is subject
To become too rich
For no certain reason?
Define your practice.

Trust that interest
And appreciation
For the Arts
Are a kind of devotion
In themselves,
Of greater value than
Any technical skill
You master,

You went out like a lion,
With great fortitude,
In April showers
That still may blow
Our house down.
You went out
For Worcestershire sauce.  

Because the recipe
Called for 1 teaspoon
And we had none;
Because this was to be the meal
That set everything right
That made us better
If not perfect

Now, at the front steps
You kowtow to me,
As if I don’t understand
That there will be days
When handles fly off,
Because we choose
To carry our baggage

Come in, little lamb.
Let me teach:
“How to Make it Work”
In as many days
As you are willing
To show up,
Wet and soiled,
But God-willed
To learn.

What a Catch

A woman
without legs
is like a fish
without a bicycle,
unaware that there
are cleaner ways
of moving forward,
than dragging
its belly
across the shore,
like running,
riding a bicycle

Bowing to Each Other

I catch them doing it,
in plain sight,
without aid of glasses
or flashlight —
cautious as deer
in duck season.

Deer except for
a certain grace,
which no human actor
may replicate —
regardless of the shoes
she is wearing.

Not that I can say,
being neither close
as a slingshot,
nor far
as a gunshot;
rather, in the range

Of bow and arrow,
where it’s impossible
to give a good lick,
but plausible
they might curl
at the toes.

Do you see what I see?
Standing stockstill
and clothed —
It must be, I know,
their first time doing it
I am catching.

From my bower,
where sanctity protects
and discretion is easy,
I can play along —
should there come
a part fit for me.

A part shaped like
house and chimney,
formed of the negative space
between two columns,
whose alert, animal faces

Toward the same bit;
to champ together,
separately —
in practical relationship
to one

Catch me creepinglikeadog
[WOLF enters stage center]
to introduce awareness
of that separation,
and the necessity
of feeling it,

As hopefulness;
for more advances on the path
for getting closer to
than this:

The highest form of intimacy is bowing to each other.

Hard Feelings

We might call them
easy-to-hang-on feelings
or forms of regret
or crushes
or something else entirely
like how I call them

From hour to hour,
from day to day,
like clouds,
they manifest
in predictive
patterns and shapes;
but, no duck.

In the sky,
there’s no cover
for lovers,
there’s no milk
for apple pie;
but, perhaps,
enough water

to call them
but-not-impossible feelings,
or thoughts that run,
or what happens when
one of us says
to the other:

“I’m leaving.”