My Dad had said-
he habited in expecting too much-
that white is arrogance
green a misconception
and
that hate
fills with black blood,
thick with intense burning.
He also believed
1) that the sea connects to the land
and not the other way around
2) that you cannot bisect a triangle
3) that you cannot cross a bridge
without trust,
a traffic light the same.
After many declarations of this kind-
some more restricted than others
and some
half-begun-
nature took revenge,
but
I’ve yet to charge or to profane the injustice
and
I still believe that a book should be written
to tout such striking thoughts and superstitions
to shout again
what he has always known to
forget.
About the AuthorJohn Bush had this to say about his poem: "I live in Georgia, teach English, and I have my wife and two year old daughter. I'm a pretty quiet person, don't like to get out much, and I don't enjoy crowds. I like to watch people and things. I like to fish from the shore, not from a boat, and I use live bait. I especially like to camp out with my daughter in our back yard and to read with her with a flashlight under the covers. I like to revise during the early mornings, and I write whenever I can. As for the poem, I just wanted to explore someone's personal mythology. Even though the beliefs may be common and transitory, they still should be respected but not necessarily grasped by others."
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