Clear Your Throat

My father's disposition was always something to be simultaneously admired and pitied and embraced.

The characteristic disruption in his voice, when important and mundane and filler words filled with love spilled from his brain to his lips to my ears,

was more like a temporary spastic cough,

than a conventional clearing of the throat, a habitual pause for

emphasis.

You have left me with nothing, save a bitter taste in mouth.

Heraclitus and Morpheus

Heraclitus and Morpheus

Constant waves of change hit my recognition like a heavy wall of water.

Splash.

And then subside

only for a moment.

And,

Splash! Again!

Experience: sense that.

No; sense me.

Conscious

and then back to the dark

and then, permeate

The Dough like

The Cookie Cutter