hot days at brackenridge
jostling and cracking wise
already cement soul helpless
was it zilmon
was it togo
toughs in the neighborhood
who destroyed my father
the awful life of one-third kind
and two-thirds fucking evil
the lending of skill
and the steel toe to the crotch
the apology and philosophy
and belt marks black and blue
green yellow purple and red
the rainbow of love from lynn
he forgives himself should i then
the words of wisdom curled around
the cat-kicking dog-kicking son-kicking
the murderous sarcastic logic
poured out onto the fuzzy-pajama’d
half-blind boy
what can we say and do to the boy
and he returns us love still
let’s experiment
his son is nothing but lynn
a polyp on his ass
and likely a damned faggot
let’s try and take his women
let’s whip him for the sex thrill
let’s throw him out and reel him in
he’ll never figure it out
he has not the soul of the killer
he just doesn’t seem to take to the hatred
damn
too late to try again
shall we in our boredom
paint him anew
change his face
play games to stretch the cruelty
i love you you little fucking asshole
come and get some sugar, punkin’
fell for it again you little fuck
what’d i teach you
like a nervous dog
i sidle and always expect the blow
struggle to befriend and deify my abuser
it’s been too long i am wired forever
my revenge is to love
i will not pass him on he dies with me
he dies with me
he dies with me
he dies with me
and i am free now
and nothing else could make him
crazier and hateful
but that i am free
and he dies with me
sick fucking man
here is my poem for you, father.