Behold!
Tabula Rasa
As I sit in brief
Relief, through pictures yours
Invading mine, but yours
Is of a different kind. You strain
And from your pocket take a shining key,
Your mark to render for the eyes of all
Profanity upon the wall.
Is this your breadcrumb, Hansel,
As you depart and lose
Yourself in the wilderness,
The universe against you
Sending birds with squeaky wheels
To scrub away your straining
Immortality?
Oh God! I am
you.
And all my life a scraping
Key to wall,
Elate at all the awkward conversations
My work evokes
Between father and son.
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