(no subject)
I tried to write a poem for my father
full of golden california hills
detonating nuclear families
and apologies
for ghosts of the past
for sins yet to come
dad (I'd say and look
him square in the eye)
I've done it again
your son's a mess
a stranger with his hands out
a boy who doesn't know how to be a man
who sure as hell doesn't want to
he's obsessed with starlight
and kind words
with never-ending finality
the medicine's not helping
he can't speak aloud
father, forgive me
buy me a plane ticket
and tell me you're proud
when the engines give way
accompanied by my laughter
you can always tell them
-square eyed and sure-
that we tried