Hello and thank you for reaching this page which was originally set up for work I was doing from 2010=2015. If you want to catch up with newer work and rants and such, find me at Throwing Chanclas my blog I created in 2016 for my personal rants, raves, and links to published work or find me at Pachuca Productions to see photos of the original plays, vaudeville shows, and theatrical projects Tina Terrazas and I have put on as Pachuca Productions in Plumas County, California. Thank you!
If you never have anything
you don’t know what there was to lose…
my children know, though
they do as they most surely knew
love and warm dinners and cracked smiles
and laughter as long as the days grown wild
these things have gone missing
in their wholes still there in their parts
my parts, their father’s.
It wasn’t supposed to get this bitter,
or this intense. To slip silently out
of someone’s life once you realize
they never had any intention of
fully being in yours. These decades length strangers.
They’re not old enough for real explanations
the narrative is cheap, incomplete and flimsy and
out of my hands.
The Daughter Land Map
It shows everything and nothing
the terrain steep–so much to climb through
in hardly enough space to breathe
there are rocks and cliffs
and a river somewhere on
a distant valley floor.
Did I bring the wrong map?
forget where north is?
I would today gladly find
that village here in DaughterLand
high above the tree tops
where we sat together
and laughed and waited happily
for her father to get home
for her brother to wake from a nap
for the two of us
so much alike, so much different
to be in that one location
We meet in my office alone
not too long, just long enough
there are children to discuss
and the taxi-ing of children
to various places to various things
i do not hate him
if i can look at him, his face
and not remember any of the nights
i felt lonely when he was a few inches
away from me on the other side of a
king side bed with an ocean of differences
in between–back and forth–back and forth
lulled for a decade or so.
I promised when we met I wouldn’t write about him
and for the most part I’ve kept that promise.
he has his narrative
i have mine
they are not anywhere near each other
each still on the other end of a too large bed
one kid estranged from him
one estranged from me
we held on so very long before sinking
tomorrow we will be divorced.