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The World Burns
Mirado
Car Ride
Hands
Through a Mother Refracted
Boxing at Camp
Kites at 39
For Jennifer
RE:Verse Reading 12/08/09
For My Wife Who I love
Ope'd Eyes
When You're 13
Upon a Velvet Green Eve

RE:Verse Reading 12/08/09

Kites at 39

Out in the field,
wind blows and the sun is high.
Falter, fall, up again.
Running and laughing we try again.
Quick adjustments to be made
the kids go off to run a race.

The kites soar, higher into the sun..
The race is paused she is at my side now..
"Daddy can I fly it?".
Two hands on the handle.
one breaks free seeking..

I feel her hand find mine..
She laughs wholly..
I can feel her pulse race..
She holds my hand.

She's off running again..
I'm holding the kite,.
the kite pulls..
"Look at me! Can you see me!".
They are both running again..

He runs up, hugs my leg..
Laughs his belly laugh..
Off again running..
"Look over here! Can you see! Watch me!...".

Daddy

Upon a Velvet Green Eve

Between dusk and night
warm light around drapes.
The cool night engine slowly stirs
a low hum.
The soft velvet green slips aside.
The quiet bass of the evening disjointed
Brought closer
Syncopated, yet still closer.
In tune.
Natures hardest work.
Done in the dark
The green shoot breaks free, pushes,
Farther up, farther in
Feels the night air
So recently alone now a pair
Deep bass growing
Shaking loose the day
Dawn a distant horizon,
eternity here in the dark
Heated night.
Growing tangled
Tearing down
Violently gentle
Caring soft
Struggling
Dancing
Touching

As.
One.
And nothing.

Never to go back.
Never apart,
but one.

The blanket of velvet green evening.
Breath held an extra beat.
No longer night, almost dawn.
Under a downy cover, lightening blue,
dew covered, spent.

Hands

Yellow-orange street lamps.
Bands of light and dark.
Large hands on the wheel.
Two rings catch the light.

They're my hands now.
Softer maybe. Some of mom in the mix.
They seem smaller, less sure.
Can I steady the wheel like him?

When I first held my son I saw my hands as his
A brief insight; for just a moment a connection.
What it was that he might have felt.

Will I face the same?
Can I handle these challenges?
Can I keep the wheel steady?
Did he?

Every year since becoming a father
first a daughter, then a son,
the connection grows stronger.
Every year I can let go a bit more.

The petty grievances of a child
feed understanding in an adult