Father you are not far from crime
I used to think you a better God
When I heard your footsteps pound
And shake the house still and child
But you are just as small as I
And timid you turn from door to door
And yell out wild in the void
You do not seem to see that we
Have so long packed up and gone
And left the door unlocked should you
One day see and follow through

But you are frown. You snore for long
And wake up to yell. You yell and
I think, is this all you will ever be
But no, my father is soft at dawn
When sun is blue and we are torn
Between memory and yearn
Nay, I say, with my shake of head
Father's his father's scared child
Give him a prayer, my God is kind
But then a gust of wind will pass
And fling at him his muttered curse
And we watch again the tempest rise
Above as flames about the sun
Then violin, whittle, wind and whale
Then generous lot with his love
He caresses so beautiful.

Porcelain becomes fear, but
There is no room for flight.
Father, you are not far from crime

Fathering involves running,
reaching out at full stretch,
as they get to the edge

Fathering involves running
close and distant alongside
a first bike ride

Fathering involves running
meeting them more than halfway
to reduce the faraway

Fathering involves running
to more accurately display
a father’s love
that will not go away

Fathering is being ready to run
all day

A small little outstretched hand, cradles the big finger, clutching on. The mother looks at her child and smiles brightly, how this bundle of joy came from her she would never understand but the love she had for her child was so abundant and clear.
Softly humming a lullaby and rocking back and forward, a man walks in with a brightly smiled face and adoring eyes.

He whispers to the mother “Now this, this is us starting our own little family.”

The mother looks up and plants a quick kiss on the man's lips, she looks back at her child and says “It's gonna be one adventure after another, with our bundle of joy.”

The man embraces both mother and child and they all fall asleep one after another.

Oh, father.
That little girl,
You met in September.

You left.

Remember?

Without a trace,
Nor a track.
Left mother nothing but a heart attack.

But, father,
Dare I ask?

Is there a chance
You will ever come back?

Six children and a suburban home
Don't it hurt you to see me like this?
One of yours, and still so alone?

First daughter assigned third wife
I've done it all wrong again,
Haven't I?

Sprawled all across this spiky green turf
Drinking up the merciless sunshine
Trying to keep it down

Weeping about my friend's father
Watching for a hint of remorse in your stern frown
I wait for you to ask for my forgiveness
Go on, ask
Let me for once be the one to deny

To my father, who loves telling stories

Pomegranate seeds,
splatter over the countertops
your laughter heightens their fragrance
a dish rag in my hands
a halfway story exaggerating between your lips
mouthfuls and mouthfuls of past
something so simple about this morning
a togetherness of complex mirage
sun pierces through this sinking heart
and a strong desire to ease the pain
that has sunken into the cracks
overcomes me
I wonder what love is,
If it exists beyond this moment as anything true
and you, still lost in your narrations
tell me all about living
and this wondering finds ease
just as I, in your presence