These are some of the emails from my little brother, most while he was visiting my older brother in the next town over...donald is the coolest member of my family, without a doubt.
The protagonists in this poem are myself and my father. The other participant is Franz Kafka whose writings in the context of his desire for approval and acceptance from his Father has resonated with me. The Bridge is reminisicent of Kafka's Short Story, "The Judgement."
2/9/2002 He went to my mother's last night, after being gone for almost 3 years. Came back, and nothing had changed. He is still an alcoholic loser........ the worst kind. The only thing I hate is having to give him credit for my existence, mostly because I don't want to credit him for anything.
I used to try and alter my breathing when I lay next to my father. Hoping that if I could be more of a part of him ,he wouldn't leave me behind,or send me away. We'd be as one forever.These days i try to alter my breathing again, this time so as not to wake my 2 year old.
Dylana...not much to say except she is my angel...had given up all hopes of girl and here she came all 8lbs 3oz of her coal black hair that turned blonde ...a smile that never quits and talk about stubborn mannnnnn dont make her mad
