~it feels good to keep a promise~
~for AV~

<>
my expertise is at the PhD. level
for mine own experiments have
been less than successful by the
feedback periodically provided
O & Co-vertly over forty years

but a poem triggers, go figure!

and making morn coffee,
a task that teaches well,
that doing the prep is essential,
no shortcuts
for which we spend/waste years
looking for, and
realize that’s a hint to settle in
with a hot beverage,
this feels like it’s a longy coming

we know so much,
most i m p o r t a n t l y,
even how little we actually
do comprehend, and that
is importabt beyond belief,
learning to
choose counsel
that should be allowed
to pass under the bridge that filters
the crapshoot crap that pretenses
as smart and sound,
that should be
burnt & buried in an open pit

so what do fathers know?

- that finest firsts are so youthfully
under loved, under appreciated,
misperceived as endless,
the flush the rush the the thrusting
piercing of your composite composure
practiced protective skin,
cherish them firsts cause
they don’t last
because axiomatic that come
lesser, fewer, with every wrinkled day,
and sorry, time doesn’t make you bolder

- luck is a lottery ticket, the odds preposterous against you, but we
buy a ticket weekly because you
thinking this time is your time, sorry,
this lady sleeps around, a lot, a  
borderline *****,
who never asks
honey what’s your nane, because
they are thinking ‘bout the next
customer,you want it? you work for it,
and that never ever ends,
the odds
against ya never improve

- invest in discipline early and big time:
later when it will be desperately needed,
and twice as hard to obtain (can’t be bot,
no matter how much moola
you will
inherit)
and it make it habitual;
and discipline
is the entry card to unlocking the
unknown, the exceptional adventure

- thinking ‘know everything’ is a giant
no-no; this body of knowledge
you think you’ve earned by being
learned, is not as
valuable as one might
think (or feel)

cause knowledge is like a breeze,
on its way to somewhere else,
the cooling skin it leaves in its wake,
cools too quickly
and when you whine
“I know”
think this
”I no NOthing”

- that fathers oft say little, wordily,
so keep an eye out
for a raised eyebrow l,
a crinkling around the eyes,
a wrinkling nose,
they be  clues
meaning
ask me
more, later, when we deux
can pas alone

-peace of mind is
like watching waves
coming in;
ithey are long in the forming
and faster in dissolving,
they arrive piecemeal
but they keep on coming
in different shapes,
from different places,
but they do keep a-coming
and their power,
(erosion)
is the result of thousands individual
moments,
additive,
so you get pieces,
thru the unconscious
habit of accumulation
/\
here I’ll pause
to preach
makes a father thirsty
a fresh cuppa
seems highly desirable

oh yeah,
warmth can be received from blankets,
expensive ski jackets, wooly socks,
but its best when freely created
from within,
worn as you own & owned creation,
a reward for being wide open
ready,willing & able

one more thing:
find the best addiction
that bests you,
that thing will live
within forever,
like
writing poetry?
😉

so what do fathers know?

a lot, too little, never enough,
sometimes too much,
mostly good,
some awful,
just ask
find out
wonder
who will be more surprised
when you
do

a companion to “why do men cry in the bathroom? (1)
<>
even harder to understand, for it’s almost
unnatural, alone, unshaven, first glance, a small smile creeps ever so slow from
ocean to ocean, cheek to cheek, while the
lines on the face join in, quiet applause,
a satisfaction acknowledgement of mini~
minor proportions, a quick stock taking, a putting aside of the futures worries and the
currency of ever present daily woes,
a small pat on the back

<self administered,
(minimal) self admonishment>

we made it this far, while
juggling
so many acting parts
that we/he learned on the fly,
good luck and good instincts
for this exercise in adapting, becoming
an on the cuff, father, wise-man, little league
coach, protector+defender no matterwhat,
a font of knowledge who gets ignored,
cept
for delayed hugs that slowly dawn and get
inserted when never expected,
shoulders for carrying two at a time,
a reassurer when the world is spinning crashing and
the watch alerts stop this blurting
and get
the their act together again for the
curtain going up when the individualized
symphony of alarms, buzzers and rock ‘n roll anthems pronounce the blessings of morning and
another opportunity to get it wrong,
but make it right,
saying no with loving reassurance
that someday the yeses will be for real,
delivered with that same smile when the unexpected delights and in the eye corner
he observers a version of happy love in an unreservedly small  format that has value above everything else

and even with all the deep day saturations
and self salutations
he cuts himself carelessly
shaving and the focus of wskeup calls and
tender shaking, comes back like a slap to the
fresh bleeding face, and all of the above took
maybe
10 seconds
ten great,
and!
all of  ‘em
firsts ~
no seconds here

for patty m(mombo)
who will be laughing
out loud, spilling her sippin’ coffee~
after she reads this~

woke up o f f c i a l l y “fully rested”
per the devices that monitor the body,
   hoping
that’s all they do, unless they are
writing this?

don’t think but can’t be sure,
cause the poems planted here,
were seedlings elsewhere, and
the Gatherers, my senses, be working
   overtime
as we (me & them) trapse
through life picking up the discards,
of songs. tv pundits, (see title!)
overheard snippets of street
conversations,
your poems & comments,
(as I walk among you)
almost everywhere,
anytime
anyhow,

to add
days to
my life span
because

the poem notions
hit me so fast,
hanging fruitfully
needy
for picking, need
more time to love
them so fulsomely

so maybe one or two
are Rem insertions by
my Apple watch, but
not many cause I write
in a funny style!

my son asked AI to write
poems in the manner of
his dad, and it replied,
“can’t help, his poems are
too weird, not reproduceable,
borderline crazy(!!!!);”

give us someone easier
like Whitman or Plath
or Leonard C., no problem
doing dat”

so this poem was an off chance remak,
heard in passing by my digesting ears,
and like Noah’s Ark,
loaded up with alphabets 2 x 2,
set sail to your receptors to bark at ya
awake baby

with hopes
that you rise and read this,
laugh way
out loud,
and suddenly you tutu,
feeling well-reset, rested and very
a very,
moderate modicum more

appreciated enuf

nml

(when first I learned my
intellect paled by compare,)

I,
did not weep,
for my eyes
with love keeps

reminding with
every glance,
my intuition
is where my
value lay…

<>

of course, it a genius creative choreographer,
Lar Lubovitch,
to remind of the obvious
I forget