Don’t call us, we’ll call you

October 8, 2010

Poetry: Family Home Evening, 2000

Filed under: Personal — Tags: — llcall @ 10:00 pm

Laptop crash + parents’ slow computers + traveling = no Pictures for the Weekend.  I know this will hardly be consolation, but here it is nonetheless.

Family Home Evening

These are the people I see once a week
sitting in a circle of wooden benches
that only I am breaking,
singing of what eyes can say
and dripping with sap.

Occasionally they notice me
choking on the air,
my taciturn disposition exposed
and someone asks
who are you?

A dead-hearted poet,
a muddier of ankle-deep waters,
a reminder of pain;
I am not sure what
they want to hear.

I dream of lakes and oceans,
resigned I ford the
stream of consciousness
to recapture a tolerance
for smoke and emotion.



  1. Don’t make me break out another cravat-hating pit of angst. You have no idea how much I’ve got in me. I want pictures. of babies. cute ones. drooling. toothy grins. bald heads. stubby little fingers. Better yet…babies dressed in adult clothes. No, wait – I want a picture of Addison dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase going out the door. Only that will assuage my ire. I think ire can be assuaged.

    Also, my sarcastic tone is not meant to diminish the power of your disgust for FHE.

    Comment by neal — October 9, 2010 @ 5:10 am

  2. Also, I wasn’t being sarcastic, I’ve decided. I really want Addison carrying a brief case.

    Comment by neal — October 9, 2010 @ 5:10 am

  3. And I want FHE with all three of you!

    Comment by Lorie — October 9, 2010 @ 8:04 am

  4. I think I’m following you until I get to the word, “smoke”. Not sure where that fits. Is it literal/figurative? Are we talking about man-made smoke or nature-made smoke? And Neal, I agree with pictures of cute babies but toothy drooling ones??? ….hmmmmmmmm 😉

    Comment by bookncurls — October 11, 2010 @ 1:58 am

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