Son

Infant mortality

Never-ever
again,
in all the mutations
of this passing world
of things,
of noise and empty rancour,
will my son
turn
his baby…

Phaethon: A Prose Poem

Do I not look like the god who drives the Sun?

Temporary Invention: A Prose Poem

The mythic sons’ narrative climax

For my mother

She taught me to embrace the sentimental as any strong man can, And her smile will…