Make yourself at home. Put your feet up. Grab your favorite beverage and prepare to enjoy the reads.



My Daddy

He comes home
from work wearing
his gray striped overalls
covered with Vanadium dust.
I think he is the
President of the United States
I'm close. He is
the President of his Union

"Carry me. Carry me."
I whine and beg.
He's so tall,
when he lifts me up,
I can touch the sky.
Well, the ceiling, I mean.
And I can feel the place
where he fell through
one day, from the attic
as I sat in my high chair
just a moment before.

They tell me
I wasn't there,
That it happened
to my brother.
Perhaps I was there,
Waiting to be born.


  1. How very evocative of your sense of the man. For me it seems to have a flavor much like of Theodore Roethke's My Papa's Waltz.


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