I have all the words that have gone missing to say that I am thankful for being in the August 2021 run of Poem-A-Day at poets.org as guest edited by Kazim Ali
Read the poem here
about the poem:
“I can't speak for all fathers, but my own fathering is littered with necessary and fake finalities. As such, I wrote this poem by hand on a small piece of paper while worrying about the long and short lives of my children. In the spacing of the poem, I tried to honor the little room I'd given myself for its projected concerns.”
Birdbrain, god egg, blood test. Birth travels no great distance. In the dream, I tell you it's a dream. Our moms are dead. I talk about yours and you talk about yours. A mirror goes to the window to be wounded. The secret almost reaches god.
I break my nose in front of a deer beneath a star made of ticks
My sister’s hand bleeds inside of a puppet
A naked person I don’t know loads a small gun behind the head of a grey haired child
I know the kid
Move kid
I look at you all day
Touch is a painting trapped in god
None of us are great
with goodbye
An entire angel
set aside
for death
If you cut a bird open, you can hear angels lying to god
Any bird
cut the hair of rain with god’s sleep
be sad with me for a mother’s hour
eat in front of our father for a year
keep time for a light switch scraping its bored magic across the stomach of an unclicked angel
find a mask
want a stomach
genitalia 19
the mouth that flew into my mouth has begun to open in yours
mouth of god, mouth of god
how do I close the mouth of god
maybe we kissed
it didn’t
fly
no image for that
two people, Eden, a spoonful of snow
No one inside the house knows the fire is empty
Feed your little shapes
shapes
A dream
in a terrified
apple
God attracted to nothing
for Franz Wright
Life is indeed vague and inaccurate. All my days, I've not remembered seven straight. Don't touch my mom and dad.
I have put rocks
through frogs
for sounding out
the patience
of my fear
How early I was
to my terrible angel
I would not mark myself
as wild, I would
bless the underbite, then hosanna
my bottom teeth
into the roof of my mouth
They put a light
made of light
in there
but I couldn’t
fill a ghost
Each toothache
around this time
slept longer
than god
I was eye and passed away mouth
A close friend blew his hand off
trying to call
his mother
No vision awaits our seeing

