Contemplating My Son's First Day of School

[billy]

i really like this one Todd. the latter part of the third stanza felt a little apart from the rest of poem though it was well written.

all in all a good read. with few nits.

I hear his roar.
He is Where the Wild Things Are,
Where the Sidewalk Ends,
He Is Go, Dog. Go!
On a plane, in a train,
in the rain, drenched
in enough humming energy,
to reignite a dying sun. a nice picture of boyish antics.

I hear my son roar. for me, son and sun are to sonic to be so close, how about another word for son?
He is a dinosaur, a race car, a dragon even
I don't know what he is, or will be.
Soon, I will no longer even be
the camel he rides
to a faraway desert. this works on nore than the one level, you'll be too old, he'll be too big, the child in him will move on. great stanza.

That first roar came from blue lips,
with an old man's face,
and an equal weariness;
suffering smoothing into sub dermal promise. feels a bit cold
I had clacked the abacus,
done all the equations of cliched fathers
for fingers, for toes, for herd placement.
Must it always be tooth on tooth
in the language of blood?
We think we are kinder now,
as does every generation:
kind like the razor,
like hunger. while i like the stanza, the last six lines depart in style from the previous ones .

My son roars.
He is Where the Wild Things Are,
Where the Sidewalk Ends,
He Is Go, Dog. Go!
On a plane, in a train, in the rain.
He is dinosaur, race car, dragon.
While I am the camel he rides
past saguaro and scrub
across this vast emptiness. there;s a sadness in this last stanza, that the first stanza never had. it closes the poem off nicely.