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(A recent virtual chat with thine youngest daughter
awakened poignant memories adjusting to 
fatherhood for first time).
     
December 22nd 1996 Bundle of Edenic Joy
Twenty one plus years ago 
   faux self anointed 
   cap’n Matthew Scott Harris
   twittered n burst with ahoy

on account of thine first borne – 
   unbeknownst to us then if girl or boy
so an assortment of gender appropriate names – 
   some brazen others coy
filled pages of our journals, viz 

   newly minted parent’s endless employ
though of Semitic ancestry choices 
   per namesake resulted, relinguished, 
   and reflected more ova goy
which genealogy less significant 

   than precious progeny healthily fused
   vis a vis via twenty-six chromosomes 
   that did miraculously alloy 
into a healthy genetically whipped 
   miracle – crème of the crop

that only imaginary dragons 
   reigning over a vampire weeknd 
   with fiery red hot chili 
   peppered lyrics could drop
whereby flute tour ring notes
 
   induces Crowded House 
   crowdsource to hip hop
calisthenics that emulate swishing 
   brush strokes of a mop,
which if attempted by myself,
 
   would witness one sic pop
so, he sticks twizz ranks, viz his literate 
   ass spur ray shun to confess
those thermostatic and 
   temperature controlled
 
   emotions more or less
extolling occasions that held poignancy, 
   though as first time foo fighter father
   my state of managing a newborn 
   felt chaotic and sorry mess

though words resonated less with Eden, 
 she most likely happened 
   to be oblivious asper YES
mine hand felt hog tied, 
   yet over ensuing years –
 
   the invitation, integration, 
   and initiation Rites aiding of spring  
indelibly impressed invaluable psychic ring
whereby initial awkward role
   no longer on par as foster child
 
   for her existence (albeit 
   demanding at times – 
   synonymous with other 
   infantile pang), thine essence 
   acquired an acute attentiveness
 
   to her basic needs and wants 
   likened to pay obeisance 
   per a special offering,
   whose absence as a grown woman 
   make mine heart grow fond 

   (and psych twinge with nostalgia)  
   those long days journey into night, 
   yet mandatory
   to let go this biological off shoot 
   part of me (atavistic human league
 
   to attending babyhood 
   pampering she required 
   perhaps, in near future happiness springing 
   from within herself she will bring
now, a mixed bag of emotions
 
   wrestle and roil
inside her corporeal being, 
   I praise and prize accomplishments
   spurred by natural borne desires 
   to become independent
 
   rather than shutter herself up 
   (as exemplified by das papa,
   who still writhes, seethes, and orates 
   many forfeited explorations 
   of natural self discovery thwarted

   renting my psyche asunder 
   with lightening mailer daemons 
   still on the prowl, 
   and trawling like internet trolls
   essentially explaining 

   present years of dulled emotional, 
   excised financial, hogtied 
   interpersonal and social toil
repercussions forever unfairly 
   induced upon the darling lass
 
   pronounced upon star student, 
   who suffered sheer agony
when asked – by classmates -  
   the vocations of me
or “mother abby’, which 

   vicarious torture inflict means 
   to destroy myself, cuz  
   utter embarrassment, misery, 
   writhing really vociferously 
   within genetic blend, whose love 
   not asked nor sought unequivocally!
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