I haven't  submitted any poetry  anywhere this season (or  at all,
honestly, but lets  ignore that for now). I would  post it on here
or a  similar gopherspot, but  most mags n' journals  wont publish
you  if you  have your  work previously  published anywhere  else,
including  online, including  (I assume)  on a  pubnix with  ~1700
members, any ~128 online at any time.  That said I did submit 5 to
the zine on here, so expect that when Issue 3 drops.

Although, I  do have  a lot of  poems I doubt  I will  ever submit
somewhere, so it probably won't hurt to put them here. Heres one I
have actually been working on for a while.

As a preface, its about my dad,  who was (still is?) an AA member.
Its a haiku because thats what it was at first.

*

Bronze Chip

    Hi I'm Steve. Hi Steve.
    It's been 12 months since we spoke.
    One day at a time.

*

Probably  my favorite  William  Carlos Williams  quote  is from  a
lecture he gave  at Harvard (i think): "They say  you should never
explain a poem,  but I find it helps nevertheless."  So yeah I cut
off communication  with my dad  at the  start of 2018.  My parents
divorced when I was 7, and  surprise surprise that leaves a couple
o' scars on  a kids mind. I  went to a theapist  back in 2012-2013
and thats one  thing that we ended up working  on. I was reluctant
then but I tried  to talk to him to get  a conversation going, but
then I didn't want to, so  I stopped answering his calls. And then
one  time he  left  a very  angry voicemail  which  I think  still
bothers me, a lot when I think about it...

Anyway at  my mom's funeral  (2015) I  already hadn't seen  him in
like... well  I don't remember it  must have been less  than 7 but
more  than 1  year. Anyway  so I'm  there at  this funeral  barely
keeping  anything  together  having already  overcome  a  hungover
discussion with the funeral director three days prior and buying a
black suit which when I think about it now who the fuck would have
cared  and anyhow  I'm there  on forty  edges and  I see  this man
appear  and it  is too  long before  I recognize  him and  I leave
around the backway to collect myself.

Motherfucker (ha)  cornered me in  the hallway  of what is  now my
house  later, before  I  had  started working  hard  on my  second
worst-ever-hangover-of-all-time of the week though  I am sure I at
least had had a beer by then. I mentioned he was/is a member of AA
(so was my mom) and I will tell ya, I could not have given less of
a fug.

Anyway.

Last year I got tired getting an anxiety attack every birthday and
christmas or  bloody whenever, seeing  his name show up  on caller
id. I wouldn't even pick up.  Just the thought of him leaving that
pointless voicemail  or sending  a subtext of  "please acknowledge
that  i am  your father  and that  i matter  for that  reason" was
enough to fuck up my day.

And I don't need that. I don't need a father anymore. I don't need
him.

Hence the poem.

*

This turned out to be much  longer than I intended, but this phlog
is called "feels" and thats what this is so yeah.