windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

Month: April, 2011

parental pride

he chewed and swallowed a clove of fresh raw garlic. i ask him “was it spicy?” “no.” i humbly accept his offering: the last few slices of home-pickled watermelon radish.


days lengthen. sleep comes late. child abed, work begins. light backpack of youth buried in the closet.


straightforward and direct, i’m only as destructive as you are. we run on the same fuel. efficiency for its own sake isn’t our way. our dance will nourish or break you, depending on your manner.


take the shower. face the mirror. brush the choppers. smooth the hair down. don the pj’s. kiss the baby. fluff the pillow. spoon the partner. sleep.


a poem because i live in an urban area, i didn’t secure a dwelling that let’s me be loud, and i’m damned with consideration for my fellows. my instruments sit silent my spirit seethes.