Monday, February 08, 2010


It’s my dad’s birthday – 75 today. He was born in Scranton, PA, but lived most of his life in NJ before moving to Santa Fe over a decade ago. He loves it there. I love it there, too. My dad and I have a lot in common. Neither of us is a terribly enthusiastic person. We both had kind of unhappy childhoods, his worse than mine. We both like elaborative humor. Neither of us is into horseback riding. He writes. I write. I hope my dad lives forever. Thanks to my brother Thatcher for letting me use this photograph of pops dressed as a skeleton.

Here's a found poem from one of my father's emails.
I had a dream Saturday night
you were abducted by gypsies.
You were very young, like in kindergarten,

and we were traveling somewhere. June came
to tell me some people were taking you away.
I saw a group of men and women walking away and one

of them was pulling you in a little red wagon.
By the time I caught up with them they’d gone
into a house but two of the group, two

men, were standing outside. I said I had come
for my daughter, I had to have her
because we were leaving tomorrow –

this wasn’t true, but I thought I needed a reason
to get you back. One of the men asked how
late do you let her stay up?

I figured he was stalling me while the others left
with you by another door or hid you somewhere
and so I started for the door,

and I looked in – the door had windows in it.
It was a frightening dream.
But June said it was about poetry.


Valerie Loveland said...

I really like the way the photo is composed.

I went through New Mexico when I moved to California, and it was the most beautiful part of the trip.

Dave said...

Wow. The apple didn't fall far from the tree!

BJeronimo said...

At first I thought it was Karlin. You come from good stock. I like how the name June is ambiguous as the personification of the month or the month used as a name. Very surreal, somewhat like the lead-in; a foreboding of the paranormal.

SarahJane said...

June is my stepmother. But it is also a month!

Kathleen said...

It IS a poem. I hope your dad lives forever, too.

ron hardy said...

Wonderful found poem written by your Dad. I liked the door with a view. Like it's not really an obstruction.I too love New Mexico. My brother and his wife and daughter have lived in Taos for about fifteen years where they own a cafe/bakery and a fabric store. The light, the space, three cultures, the mountain, sage.

Tilt Press said...

This is just fantastic, Sarah.

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