It was my favorite spot in the house,
encyclopedias, imagery of viking ships,
camels, dinosaurs, sands far away,
preposterous hats with feathers,
worn serious, men of histories
nosic fashions of state,
all new and open, even volcanos
giving world info away,
book volumes,
dog chewed on, warps of ruined book wear,
It was still my favorite spot in the house,
colorful imagines, heavy extra, in my mind,
birds walking on other, places other,
islands cragged lucky, as only theirs,
Until the bats were placed out
on the next of libraries door,
wood and metal,
not really fun...
to be there anymore.
sports duh,
glims gross at a fascists score.
.....
no tv in-house either,
it's not a raise issue,
not a plight without,
so loud everywhere else,
the houses other as they blare it out.
what to do? rollerskate and brush the dogs,
...meander into remember
those books and my voracious overhog.
coins
Back to my childhood disfortunes,
of a coin change financed upbringing,
coins for my mother to purchase our food,
coins she had to take from the slacks of his pants
laying over his bedside, while he slept or was in the shower.
coins she had to separate into pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters.
coins she had to roll into bank sleeves,
coins she had to ask small shops and liquor stores, to convert into paper dollars.
coins she had to bicycle with many miles away with us as children
to banks to convert, to receive paper versions of 5's or 10's.
This info belongs with the negligence violent abuse raising lawsuit and not here,
where my father for years on end, couldn't find the decency of personage to give her use-able shopping money.
coins my brothers and I received as cruddie christmas reminder gifts
coins we also had to touch one by one,
coins we also had to load into a few bankable sleeves,
or show expressed disfortune to him,
---which would have heightened his anger.---
coins as a reminder the rest of our lives,
that we were raised as the lowest bottom neglect of children ever.