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May 8, 2017 / barton smock

..retroactively not..

in which I softly attempt to bring a journal into the middle of my son’s sickness. entries one thru three.


one day my son is dying, the next he is not, and the next he is. day four: prayer is dismissive, but welcome. whose past is how we left it? body is delivered twice. beginning and end. nostalgia and wardrobe. middle eats everything. it snowed and I thought my blood was melting. could be the way you reason that happens for a reason. I was a kid when mouse was a kid. there’s no hope and I hope.


his weight a cricket on a piano key


disability as competition, jesus. and then these over here are arguing about the use of the word, disabled. here we will coin transformative indifference. a body is not a teachable moment. as a parent, I think I’ll take the shortcut. meanwhile, I have a glossary of terms you’ll never need that you can read beneath a dog-eared, thumbless god.


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  1. barton smock / May 13 2017 4:12 pm

    Reblogged this on kingsoftrain and commented:

    entry four: sickness in the young is god’s way of preventing nostalgia from becoming the god I remember

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