Yes, it has been a while since I've written. I've been carried away by the beauty of sentence such as the following: f'(x) = the limit as h goes to 0 of f(x +h) minus f(x) all over h. See what I mean? Sheer poetry, eh?
If not. Here is some:
If not. Here is some:
At each day's end we convened
to pack our mouths with food.
Daily we came to be replenished.
Daily we came to wound.
Mother's anger subsumed our spite
as the language we hurled
made the food that was served,
bile.
My brother,
blessed with firstborn's love,
free as any boy who
comes in late
and knows he's safe,
he jumped the cat but missed the tread.
(The precious carpet fibers slicked.)
He fell. She laughed.
He smacked the floor.
She laughed again.
He knocked her beer off the baluster
sullen, ready for war.
There's dinner, she said
you're late.
Who put that fuckin' thing there?
It's always in the way!
Who needs this fuckin' beer?
She looked at him.
He, at her.
I looked for shelter in my plate.
The baby chewed her corn.
There were no words for what
my father did not say.
She jerked the hose
and sucked her teeth.
Clean it up, she said.
My brother snorted when
Mother stepped down.
Clean it up. Now.
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