"How do you meditate daddy?"
Meditation is hiding how I meditate even from my own pen.
You may observe me meditating and learn that way.

Forty yards from Haribo Heaven,
They took flight,
Mocking the clouds of traffic:
Faster and faster,
Faster and looser,  
Faster and freer.

But then the Saxon ground
Came out in revolt,
Saying
Their covenant with gravity had been violated.

All sound was muted.

Heads struck at thirty-three yards;
Backs cracked the soil at thirty.
In his heart,
It was her finger that he felt,
Arching over the G string of her violin,
Like the neck of a flamingo.  

He mused:
After the sound came back,
Would she play a gigue or a dirge
To accompany
This ignominious moment?

When her sullied, muddied, mossy eyes looked away from him,
To her, had he become a lesser man?

Faster and faster
Faster and looser.

Had she now glimpsed a father’s struggle
To piece together what he thought he knew?

Whisper broken promises
I’ve heard them all before

Tell me all your excuses
I have them memorized word for word

Tell me pretty lies
Nothing you can do is new

The precedent was set before I was born-
Before anything had to do with you.

Just please promise you will stay
Because he never did.

Now I sit here and wait
Waiting for your text,
Waiting for his call,  
Or for the letter signed-
         Love,
                  Dad

still not enough
two cold cups of coffee later,
once the morning show has ended
and Boss quits yelling through walls.

jingle bells leap through the door,
an alert to be alert.
yeah times are tough,
but we're tougher.

keep on smiling,
another threat will leave
and you’ll still have a job
and you’ll still have a bed.
so they’re not satisfied
with the color palette,
big deal.

escape route would be nice,
but then it’d be You vs World
and there’s just too many of Them.

well,
at least soon there will be
one more of Us.

Candles flicker
with begged forgiveness,

each tender wick
a glowing reminder,

each drop of wax
a tear sliding down
the father’s cheek.

Having lit them all,
I wait for him to come.

a mouse under a rock
she peers out to see the world
green! blue! white!
a stream, winding down the hillside
a lush forest full of life and breath
clouds that drift overhead
but the shadow of a predator falls
and sends chills down her spine
the mouse retreats.

a mouse under a rock
peeks out once again
sunlight! grass! wind!
the cascading of a falls not too far
a swimming hole, perhaps
surrounded in trees and mud
but the predator is back,
so the mouse hides again.

he has his father's eyes.

that's the first thing
that I notice when
I hold my son
for the first time.

those huge, hazel eyes
are staring back at me
from his perfect face.

he is so small
and so young
and so innocent

but already,
he reminds me
of his father.

already, I am scared
that my son will
grow up to be
just like his father,

or maybe even worse.
maybe my son will
grow up to be
just like me.