Tags » Infancy

08. (Bottles)

My daughter won’t take a bottle. She will not accept food as a substance that comes out of a cold rubber nipple and not a warm soft breast. 180 more words


139.365 (8/79)

But our unfurnished eyes and our unhoused mouths and our unschooled tongues and our unfinished noses and our unplayed ears and our unmade heads — these are the only holy hosts that any infant knows.


138.365 (7/79)

It’s raining, it’s crying, it’s pouring, it’s laughing, it’s snowing, it’s asking, it’s cats and dogs, hammers, nails, it’s wondering, it’s hailing, it’s breathing, it’s thundering, it’s dreaming, it’s talking.


Cambodia's Children

Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born

Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to sweet delight…

72 more words

137.365 (6/79)

What will I make of a world of which I am made, I ask myself now as I stack these words that make me unmake myself, then slip a brick from the stack to see what stays, what falls, what words might fake the strength of my father’s arms.


The Baby Who Hated His Carseat

It arrived a couple of months before my due date. I had it shipped to my dad’s house, since we were moving and I didn’t want to have to haul it with us. 1,414 more words