Thread: Daddy Still Writes

Daddy Still Writes

You are a spore leaking babies
through my bent and broken veins—and all they do
is make crescent walls like bloody dolls,
so you’re spilling in spurts.
This is the fountain you built
for me.
It brings me to my knees.

I am
your baby girl, your little whore.
I breathe all your letters one by one.
Ink spores make frozen lungs.
My skin is so blue.
All for you.

It’s busting open, unfolding tissue.
Old syringes pop remaining vein balloons,
bring a perfect, viral you.
Different centers for the fountain-flow
build in my elbow creases,
where you laid puncturing kisses.

This is
a direction in body resurrection,
if you can break the current
for me

Wow, again you have out done yourself angel, wish I can go into detail but alas I am metaphorically impaired I enjoyed this one greatly keep up the good work !

Thanks so much. Really appreciate. This one kept me up for a bit.

I don't think the line "your little whore" fits. I kind of grasped the idea you were presenting in that stanza, but the language outside of it is SO poetic that the word "whore" almost seemed trashy, if you know what I mean. I don't mean to sound harsh with that observation, but it just didn't fit for me with the rest of the piece.

I loved your rhyming and rhythm, once again. Spot on.

Ah, yes. You're right. It doesn't fit. That was sort of the point of it. It's a bit hard to explain. Basically there's a contrast here. What he is to her and she is to him. If that makes any sense. It's supposed to be a bit jarring.

Hmm, you always include such (slightly grotesque) details of ooze and blood and fungus in your poems...
Would you mind explaining what the poem has to do with the title?
Oh, and were "veins" and "crescent" a reference to sickle cell anemia or am I just seeing things? The poem is definitely about sickness, I know that.
As always, good use of assonance and consonance.

You're not seeing things. That was the idea there. With that particular disease, it's hereditary and you have ongoing pain and treatment. And also because the cells are deformed in a sense. And that's what I really wanted to convey in this. It's about sickness, but not in the literal sense.

As far as the title, I'd rather not share the details here. It's a very personal piece. But the title does fit.