she says, i’m getting old. i look at myself, i’m getting thinner. our daughter cries as we leave her behind. in the city, walking, eating, talking. almost there again. easy drive, easy parking. sushi, open air exhibition and the sun, the sun, the sun. days like this, many years ago. almost.

i don’t know where i go, but i go somewhere and then suddenly i am here, my lungs can breathe, i am out of the murk, the lines sharpen. i do not know where i go my love, but i went and i now back. i can’t quite explain it, the cloudiness and detachment, the thickness between me and everything else, the immobility, the sterile detachment. and in those moments i am so lost and alone, and i look at you and her and the little one and i am overwhelmed because i am so far away and i want to be near, i so desperately need to be here.

how do i explain to her the desire for the avalanche karma, the yearning for release, the breaking of skin? how do i explain to her that i want to be broken open, i want to be beaten so i can feel my bones ache? how do i explain to her that i feel locked in this skin, that i am sealed in and i cannot find a way out? i love her, i love my children, my god how do i love them, they are wondrous and mysterious. i am flawed and ugly and without worth.

it is never easy to be honest, to say after the wreckage “we are better off”
it send everyone off the rails, re-opens newly sealed wounds,
to say “we are better, somewhat damaged”
to say “you are better off scarred and hobbling”
it is difficult and unfair and unyielding and without compassion.

to find rest, raining, pouring, wind whip. i shiver through my anger, little patience, even less. maniacal need surpassed, a grinding peace, she’s always deserved much more, much better. awake in twilight, the first to face the dawn, i was meant to be like this. sudden and aware, before anyone else.

ravaged and hung sideways: I feel the spleen. drenched in over coats over stepping bounds like mad fathers who persist to abduct their children while screaming epithets. we drink and stumble and laugh a laughter from deep in our bellies because the day has its shortcomings and we could not abandon it. he says to me, the violence never ends, only our bodies ability to withstand it.

from barren limbs nubile buds streching into something beautiful. she inists on watering the weeds and with careful chubby feet tips the spout sideways. my love reminds me to be good to her. time heals nothing; all it does is encourage forgetting. and my son witless and joyful, gnaws on anything he can get his infant hands on.

while blowing on dandelions my daughter wishes for a great dad. spending the whole day with me leaves my son smileless and untrusting. i sit outside catching cigarettes the way fish rip into a line: manically and without regard for myself. i have failed, i am failing.

the music of calamity, long droning tones with sharp pitches like the squeal of my son or the shriek of laughter from my daughter. she settles me into place, holds me to her chest, whispers, you’ll get through this, you’ll get through anything. precious soul. how have I not broken you by now?

the most wonderful day wife daughter son laughter and ease away from keyboard and poker away from the night for once a peace of mind a harmony a leaving an arrival an end a beginning a rest without fists arms wrapped around them them arms wrapped around me