http://www.hugoschwyzer.net/2008/11/06/thursday-short-poem-goldensohns-back-roads/ Author, Speaker, Professor, Shattering Gender Myths Thu, 09 Feb 2012 04:08:01 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 http://www.hugoschwyzer.net/2008/11/06/thursday-short-poem-goldensohns-back-roads/#comment-16432 Angiportus Thu, 06 Nov 2008 18:12:11 +0000 http://hugoschwyzer.net/2008/11/06/thursday-short-poem-goldensohns-back-roads/#comment-16432 I've got the veins...and the scars...I'm working on the geographic sense [I once showed the bus driver an alternate route, during a flood]...but as an only child who never felt golden or superior, I don't have the family feeling. Here in Pugetropolis we have enjoyed a a very colorful autumn and now face the season of splayed crowns across the road and upturned root-balls. So keep an eye out for poems. I’ve got the veins…and the scars…I’m working on the geographic sense [I once showed the bus driver an alternate route, during a flood]…but as an only child who never felt golden or superior, I don’t have the family feeling.
Here in Pugetropolis we have enjoyed a a very colorful autumn and now face the season of splayed crowns across the road and upturned root-balls. So keep an eye out for poems.

]]> http://www.hugoschwyzer.net/2008/11/06/thursday-short-poem-goldensohns-back-roads/#comment-16431 Livy Thu, 06 Nov 2008 16:50:09 +0000 http://hugoschwyzer.net/2008/11/06/thursday-short-poem-goldensohns-back-roads/#comment-16431 Lovely poem, although I can't share in the sentiment at the very end (being a younger daughter). My father is a sheet metal worker - he has very rough, coarse hands, with crooked fingers (from being broken), covered in scars, little metal shards embedded in them, worn fingerprints and bruised and broken nails. Some of my most vivid early childhood memories are sitting in church and holding his hand, turning it back and forth to examine it, and then tracing his veins with my fingertips - and pressing them down, gently, and letting them pop up again. Thanks for sharing this. Lovely poem, although I can’t share in the sentiment at the very end (being a younger daughter). My father is a sheet metal worker – he has very rough, coarse hands, with crooked fingers (from being broken), covered in scars, little metal shards embedded in them, worn fingerprints and bruised and broken nails. Some of my most vivid early childhood memories are sitting in church and holding his hand, turning it back and forth to examine it, and then tracing his veins with my fingertips – and pressing them down, gently, and letting them pop up again. Thanks for sharing this.

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