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A modern dialogue between Narcissus and Echo, of the silky voice which speaks through the reflection in the water and meets his heart’s gaze and will ultimately turn his legs to roots and his head to pedals.

Otherwise known as the poem about: learning to love your deadbeat dad even though he once hit your mom when she was pregnant with you, and you only met him once in passing when you were 7 at your gramma’s house and you waved to him and he said hi and then you said hi and that’s your only memory, and it’s not even a memory, more like an abstract dream-feeling with pictures that are all fragmented and blurred, and he didn’t even say hey, it’s your dad, because you later find out that he doesn’t think you’re his.


Disrupt the boundless calm at sunset and stretch out with me by the ageless poplars
Where the angels hung their harps in proverbial acquiescence and refused to play
After they had traded their beauty for weapons of pride & despair

My father, like these angels before him, exhales death & rejection on love
He assumes that I’m probably his son although he never trusted my mother in the late 70's / early 80's.
The graduation picture my aunt Doris gave him probably gave him a smile, maybe even a tear
Because he’s got to know we look the same
But maybe I should pay him a visit, and we could sit down and talk
Maybe even share a beer with him, two alcoholics on some grey couch in the depths of a country home trying to relate

At least then I’d know he longed for me
For a relationship
With his son

I see how compassionate I am
How much love I have inside me
How I feel when I look at her

And I know, like the angels before him
That he once knew how to love
Cause everybody has at least once
Some cultivate
Some forget

And I love him for that,
But must of all I love him

For giving me life





c a maples
 
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