When my father died, a wall that stood forever crumbled. Every room across the universes was forced to adjust. About When my father died… When my father died is a poem that came to me in the shower. A lot of ideas do that. They find room to pop up
Life is a mystery, they say. Is it? There’s an answer in verse.
Was Cummings right?Is it a lie untethering the common lietossing us like formless energyinto timeless space where everything happens at once? Among the insane features of sleep, did weagain stand together inintimacy, and if not,how did we know each otherbefore we met? Did we in that moment walk hand-in-handalong