Monday, June 2, 2014


Appear anywhere, your mom pollenized
on Mount Something or other, and before ten
you are what you are. ‘“We are haunted by the lives
our parents did not lead,”’* I’ve been an unpresent,
and what were they? I’ll never know. I was so
studded with ignorance and snipped-off buds.
The school choral group that sang at Xmas,
stirred me, but like love, I was unable to feel
what I felt. I can’t blame myself for what
was not given, I can’t blame progenitors
for not giving. Alter a bald scalp,
a time, a place and what are you? I might
have high-wired a canyon, tossed off
an epic, a waltz, been slaughtered by gendarmes.

*Quoted from an unknown author by Anthony Rudolf in his
essay “Rescue Work: Memory and Text” (Stand Vol. 5 [3] 2004).

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