I've been trying to post some different things on the weekends when everything is more relaxed--the Muffin story, photos of the northwoods. Here's the first time you'll see me post poetry on Open Salon, something I wrote many years ago for my father before he died.
Have a great weekend, everyone.
daddy did you dream me up
Daddy did you dream me up
to be a name among the newsprint
underneath the Sunday headlines,
or a phantom of the footlights,
flawless face of current fashion,
You were never one to dream at night, and once
it didn't really matter
if I hung your hopes at all.
Let me tend my fires on the mountain.
Let me play with traffic in the street.
Let me wrap your love around me
like a shawl and let me breathe
the life we found between the centerfolds and Sunday books.
We have strayed away from Sunday looks--
And now I trace your image in the faces that I meet.
You're the only Christ I ever knew
but your fear of faith will follow you
and fading fast, I follow, too.
Window in Newport, September 1990.