Miles To Roam, Fresh Air, No Cares

photo by Glen Weaver

photo by Steve Power

Daddy Redux

The Father In Me

Flowers call to me and the blossoming
trees call to me especially the fruit
trees the apple and cherry and pear call
to me and the young spruce calls to me and 
and the lovesick dove mistakes my moans for a 
kindred spirit and calls to me but I
can't hear because the unappreciated
raking of clawed feet across one's face to 
avoid the ambush of vultures returning
to the city by the lake fed by a 
burning river or else face not the reckoning
you might imagine. Children call to me,
mostly for money.

from The Abundance of Nothing 
by BRUCE WEIGL

red aloud, forschizzle

tweeked  version of original by Charles Willson Peale