Father, you are the blueprint of my soul,
And though I sense our parting drawing near,
The crucible of death will make us whole.

The day or hour is not ours to control
Yet even strangers read your passing here.
Father, you are the blueprint of my soul.

In paradise's fields I see a knoll
Where, shucked of flesh, we sport without a care,
The crucible of death will make us whole.

As age and weight make diamond from the coal,
So I am fashioned from your smile and tear,
Father, you are the blueprint of my soul.

I will not dread the shedding of my role,
A promise waits beyond the footlights' glare,
The crucible of death will make us whole.

So, father, do not fear to pay the toll,
I am the sun, your shadow I revere.
Father, you are the blueprint of my soul.
The crucible of death will make us whole.

No dad, no hassle.
No parental battle.
I guess this should be a good thing.
It's not like it's ever bothered me.
Except that it has,
But depending when you ask,
It doesn't anymore.
I'm completely fine.
I'll continue my life.
Nothing, nothing has changed.
I've managed without,
So why would I need?
Why would I want?
But sometimes I can't make up my mind.
So I do nothing to it.
It's the only thing that's safe.
Because once you've done something,
There's no going back.
Why give it the chance to effect me?
I don't want you.
Don't want to know you.
You don't even want to know me.
You're not my dad,
Barely a father.
To be a dad you have to stick around,
But you were never there to begin with.
Other daughters and fathers bond,
But I wouldn't want to with you.
You're the wrong type of person anyway.
Even though, I've seen some of your Facebook posts.
One I found very ironic.
And too much time has gone since I was born.
I bet you don't know I'm fifteen.
You've probably forgotten about your unknown daughters.
And why wouldn't you?
Funny, you don't know I exist.
But this poem, I wrote about you.

Sewn together out of old
flannel memories and work shirts of the past
a network of  veins
plumping generations of
angry blood
We carry traces of mean,
scared people
Terrible things
not fondly remembered
at reunions
And yet are present in the tapestry

But

There are many
kind
compassionate
beautiful souls as well

They are all on your tapestry
Know it
and display it well

the planets. the peaches.
pruned. picked. for the reaches.
the centuries. a second to the eternities.
you can have it. say laugh when. you hear the jazz note.
the voice of all that i spoke. the saxophone.
like dialing digits of truth. on the telephone.
come on. say one and two. up and down. the diversity in one single crown.
upon the ears of sound. it's the heart's listening device. toss it like rice.
at a wedding. human genes get paired up. and twisted.
so simple. it comes in flavors of licorice. red and black.
off and on. check the track. when the needle skips.
we find all these differences.
let me bring it back. for diversity.
zeroes and ones. spread the spectrum. across high and low frequencies.
it's so easy. let the record speak. can you stay on beat.
the principles of the high. the sincerity of the meek.
whatever lies between. is one or the other. blended across the centuries.
and all mothers. give birth to the last. man to the first.
follow that. discussion of high low.
mid ranges get blown. saxophone pace the flow. get pricked by the tweeters.
soul from the bass feeders. save the appetite. for the words that i write.
and then speak. you you. not me. splitting hairs. atoms. quarks. and light.
beams. like a smile. across a broad spectrum. either off. always on.
high low. then get gone.

A single helical strand twists randomly in the wind
All that steadies the twisting are the aetheric strings
Connected to base pairs...adenine...thymine...
Those strings steady the storms
But where do they lead
Where any path leads of course
And our destination is always our Self
That's how we know when we've arrived
We mirror back to our other Self exactly what We are
Adenine's other self is thymine
We live in duality
Until we're ready to leave that duality and become...
who we are
Non-dual
Citizens
of
Gaia

I got this body from some people I knew,
For a while, at least,
And all of its shortcomings
Including shortness
Were presaged, previewed and
More than adequately demonstrated
Over the years we lived together.
In the years I ignored that, listening
Rather to their voices
Which illustrated another prophesy less physical
And am now stunned to welcome
Both my Mother and Father
In the shaving mirror everyday.