It is about you up in the woods
And me by the river.
It is however I imagine it
And dream it to be.
The raspy voiced man
And the mouse-girl.
two artists, one in love—
Solely imagined.
Brazen-grey eyes, wide
Deep hazel ones, one slow;
Long killing perfect smile,
One falling and snagging.
Ashen, both.
Laughing, both.
Still: in love, one.

Young people,
sit restless and anxious,
wandering nervously,
sweats all over,
armpits, foreheads, shoulders
people late for this, for that,
to there, for them, who or her or him,
tapping desks, thumping feet
staring on their cell phones
burning their behind against the chair’s friction
making money with their hands on their chin
Hot tea turned cold
vacant chairs awaiting
empty stares and swell sighs
at the unwavering Exit sign.
Sometimes feeling the grief of waiting
and hearing dripping anticipation.
Never gives up.
Ten years of waiting
in the same little tea house
serving the same drinks to
different people; for ten year
finding — and on a Sunday evening
a boy asks for my name.

the season you lost your innocence it rained exceptionally hard
and all the kindergarteners that would come over to sing and swing and chant in the yard
started to frown in your direction
or half-smile with a cloudy membrane sheltering their eyes to you, or so it seemed

and people would walk their dogs with a tighter leash, afraid that they could smell
your ruin

ing body, plastered in a cold, hardened defeat...uneasy sweat

and you took off that child-like headband you'd been wearing for months on end
a little worn now, that terrible periwinkle satin and lace

too Lo Li Ta for liking
now that you finally knew what it was like to be a ******* in the lion's den

you're the kind of man who grew up
listening to nothing more than the beat
of your own heart
and the wild cries of your protégés,
burning
because while the incense lasts, the smell
of your summer skin fills each and all
with thirst
for the battlefield where you've made
your mark
and shed your blood

Dad, daddy, father?
What am I to call you, sir?
A hug, a handshake, a slap?
How am I to greet you, pops?

"Happy father's day!"
Is that what you want me to say?
"I've missed you throughout all these years!"
Is that really what you want to hear?

What am I to do when we meet again?
Tell my failures, tell my accomplishments?
But do you even deserve to hear any of these?
When you've been gone for all these years?

Why did you leave me, dad?
Was I not good enough; was I that bad?
What was wrong with me that you had to leave?
Did you even feel any regret or grief?

When I was younger I thought you were dead.
That's what I believed though it was unsaid.
And now that I know better,
What's your reason to render?

I just wish I could've known you.
Your name, or what you went through.
Only once, I've heard from you.
But that doesn't suffice for the chances you threw.

You were my first role model, daddy.
Cause of you, I don't get hurt easily.
I've learned leaving someone is inevitable.
And that hurting them is forgivable.

You taught me that love doesn't exist.
All love comes to an end, leaving a bitter mist.
I've learned everyone will disappoint you.
Although they're not supposed to.

You've created, within me, a monster.
Aren't you just proud of your daughter?
Because of you, I know that I'm worthless.
And everyone I value, will leave me regardless.

Now my heart's filled with hatred.
The suffering you caused has ended.
I'm not vulnerable anymore, daddy.
Now you're nothing, not even a memory.

So, dad or daddy or father,
The man who left and threw me away.
What now? What do you want me to say?
Happy Father's Day?

*-djs

your fractured wrist beckons slowly to the pinky
carefully moonlight denies your pleas
can you see what it's done to you
the bugs are whispering
break his knees
did i say i loved you once
underneath the willow, examining a fallen twig
did i look up at the light and tell you you were golden and green

i didn't find the answers to your questions that summer or the one after that
my words are barren
a glass desert


and i'm sorry i don't know how to love after the battles have been won
when it's not unrequited
when you're finally within reach

i'm sorry i become a ***** shell
a wordless mouth
a quiet stare, making noises between the ears
never loud enough to hear