What do fathers and daughters
talk about when out?
All the things but the most
obvious.
All the PG rated moments,
the white washed sea of friends faces,
he met in passing after work.

What do fathers think
when they don't see their daughters
for weeks on end.
Maybe they miss them,
maybe they adjust.

Beneath the rot
of every-
day grammar.
The language
curls, sick,
on the back of every
throat. Unspoken.

Garbage was meant
for cracked blacktop
expanses in the heat
of the day.
Gold keeps under
the leagues of the sea
for a reason.

Silence.
Humanity may find
all the answers.

He will love me
in the Pitch of the day-
the deep night-
in half mumbled wakefulness,

pulling me in
from an unconscious terror,
a 3AM sinking suspicion,
here he admits to loving me.

Prying through his Light
hardened skin. Numb
from the hours
and holding me from the dark.

Each trunk got treated-
the drops missing nothing,
save the sand between the roots
and the tunnels dug
beneath them.

Dry and warm-
is nothing when the air pulls
wet to your lungs,
and the woods are shiftless,
the footsteps in the sand are still.

Tides in the water
roll to slaps on the rock.
He paces through, barefoot-
feeling the quiet go on-
letting the dogs unleashed.

I suppose
too many of them are selfish-
why else would there be
so many sad songs,
blue paintings-
pictures in darkness,

reflections of faces,
and blurred
historical events.
Houses with sagging roofs-
doors that slam, and
floors that get ***** as
children get older.

I'm assuming
they are selfish-
those nameless
fuzzy- faced enemies,
stalking the innocent
bland in the street.
But, what does this
make me?

Not just today-
but a million
strung together in a
choker chain of a life.

And what's wrong with me-
faded, gone.
Love goes out slowly
Love goes by unnoticed,
like that stop sign
just before the collision.

And it's another slippery day-
some ***** to slosh down.
Maybe he will catch me,
maybe he won't notice.

No is a small word
With the emphasis
Of a rock through a window.

This window’s left broken
With glass on the floor-
Blood on the glass.

Do what you want
Say what you want
Spread me into

What you may.
No, is this baby of a word-
Shake it as you please.