A father is a father if
you’re told he is.
Otherwise how would you
know?
Paternity, essential to
our genesis,
of course must be
presumed: but how
much does it matter who
its source is?
No less esteemed a patriarchal
clan
than Jews refuse to
recognize as Jewish
anyone whose mother wasn’t.
Papa roams, Mama doesn’t.
Fathers are a cipher: not a
spiritual stamp.
From points-of-view far
too innumerable
to enumerate, dads become de trop:
goods delivered – park the
van. Not
that we ought not revere the
man – exult
in his carnality! Be
deeply glad that dads
get amorous. Their lust accounts for us.
.
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