What is white space that is not a canvas; offering agency and every possibility to whomever confronts it? It’s quiet and patient; generous; never pompous and clearly not greedy. It lets you shine against it.
Di-Di Mau: A Memorial Day Reflection
The grinning boy that never became a man represents so many soldiers that left parts or all of themselves on battlefields. I often say that I am happy to know my dad; honored I was chosen to be his. But I am fully aware that the man I know is not the one my mother fell in love with and married. That guy seems like a cool dude--not necessarily cooler than the man I know. But I would've liked to have known him outside of stories and pictures (and maybe gotten some of his speed skills--he was a track phenom too). But I was denied that. War does that. War requires that. Freedom requires that. On Memorial Day, when we memorialize the physical bodies lost in service, we have to also remember that those who came back physically alive did not come back whole. And on Memorial Day, I memorialize them--and the parts of them we lost--too.
This, Many Times (Final Girl Series. cont’d.)
Poem #3 After Kindred, 1979 It looks like noise. The interruption of her is not just blood but a cautious letting of the tools of a trade long benefiting others while she stood with one half her arm buried in a wall, a time, a space that travels through her veins as if an intracoastal [...]
Cracks in the Facade
In December of last year my father suffered a heart attack. If there’s a such thing as a freak heart attack, his was one. My dad is no Jack Lalane, but despite his penchant for fried chicken wings and bacon, he’s a pretty fit dude according to his doctors. Up until that morning, he had [...]