Poem Made out of my Mother’s Words

by Tomas Unger

I had the strangest experience this morning
Driving across town through Allston and Brighton
reminded me once again

And you violated your own rule yesterday
by hanging up angry

Please resolve all differences that interfere
with what should gradually become
a close and noble (small) family

I hope you treat yourself well tomorrow
You should treat yourself well every day

Bad French: should have been “après la neige”

My continuing statelessness

What world do you want to belong to? Which kind of person do you want to be?

Will you come home for Thanksgiving?

City beautiful. Empty and cold

It would seem to me that “do not be afraid”
applies to us all

You misunderstood my note, which had nothing to do
with graduate school

Life, more life

No despair

Whether and under what conditions it is ever possible to break through to or communicate with another self

You just have to build with what you have
or may come to have

Love always. Much love

See also the short interview
with Fiona Shaw

A poet perhaps named Herbert
(I don’t think she meant the Anglican priest)

This is not about family, god, country,
the division of labor, or even melancholy
from time to time

More than a fragment. And exactly right

If you permit me one last little lecture

And the day improved by ending

I will call later to hear your voice

Published on October 25, 2023