Sunday, July 11, 2010

Where My Father Lived

where my father lived

where my father lived was not God's actual
arrogant hill, where he shook fists, condemned him,
said vaguely threatening things;

though it was a threatening and Victorian Wales
that humanity has sort of forgotten nowadays,
except in films, broken mean-spirited pictures

that never quite capture the repression
and madness of Victoria's timeless 1960s. they are made
by those who are themselves dreadfully repressed,

who assume that women behave like prostitutes,
bitches in heat who whore themselves to limp-
dicked meaning, some idiotic sexual counterrevolution.

we know full well today that most women
do not do these things,  so my father lived there
with the rest of them, in the shadow of God's absence

and anachronistic. he knew very little about nipples,
so his evil was in some sense innocent.
(it is not his fault that i do not believe in evil,

but there was never enough of him to make a demon)

David McLean is Welsh but has lived in Sweden since 1987. He lives there on an island in a large lake called Mälaren, very near to Stockholm, with woman, cats, kittens, and a couple of dogs. He has a BA in History from Balliol, Oxford, and an MA in philosophy, taken much later and much more seriously studied for, from Stockholm. This is just one of the things that makes him so boring. Up to date details of many zine publications and several available books and chapbooks, including three print full lengths, a few print chapbooks, and a free electronic chapbook, are at his blog at

No comments: