burning crooked roses

coyotes yip !

as i walk through baby cyclones

up the stairs to the sky

as she remained

on sweating rocking horse

deeply sea pearl glint in eye,

oh is there anything else other

than immortality,

reward and wisdom,

have i become the dog

that runs through muddy rivers

to wash the gasoline of brutality off,

i will never see an algae

covered stone coffin,

horse keeps rocking

travelling this

unremarkable earth machine,

stairs behind me

as are leaking babies

and crushed beercans,

no cloud castle

old vagrants song rings softly,

weeping in whitman’s embrace

i have left human shape

finger shadows reach

as frozen spider would,

my once and fevered love

rides on

Fathers Day

i am father

and my father was father before me

we are form

almost unified shape

tied by familial genetics,

i am here

my father gone

bond unbroken love unbound

memory and cohesion

i have many of his traits,

i am here

and he still is

of the dust of the wind

yet at my side

that rub of ache in the forehead

as his thoughts and mine collide,

i have voice

my children hear

i make it apparent

as i heard my father,

despite long hours of work

his words i could hold

and made me smile

a child growing taught what is right

molded by nurturing consideration,

i am love

to my children

as he to me

never too old to embrace

and accept eternal bond

now without him

i will carry on

and my sons

as fathers will

Ivan Hare 18/06/27-09/01/13