you'll understand when
you're a parent — is a bad
way of parenting

What is it about loose eyelashes
That prompts wofty wishes;
Are they heaven’s kisses
In disguise?

We all want to lift our eyes
Above the cloak of disguise
Even if it may compromise
The facade, and authenticity’s surprise.

This world is concrete;
In Western buildings and streets,
In the here-and-now, we can flee
And dismiss lofty things as absolute.

But we are meaning-makers,
We are constant risk-takers.
We are pursuers for magic’s sake,
And may our quest we foolheartedly take.

When the yellow/green face
of this furnace valley is smudged
with summer's first rain runs

I dream about dad again:
7 years since that hospital bed
in Georgetown where he turned

to wax and I turned to water.
In the dream I was so small,
he took me to his old '80s office,

the tan portable in the field where
everything was cheap wood panels,
thin mouse-brown temp carpet.

He sat me down by his blackboard,
jotted with number theory,
& left to retrieve a book he needed.

I sat among the dry sun and dust
until I realized I was an adult now.
Eventually a man came to the door,

& said "why are you still here?
Your dad died years ago,
& we need the room."