The purpose of today is: want your son.
You want him when he feels it.
He will not know he feels it till you die.
A father-gift is how to do a thing,
so give him, daily, gifts that he can clink
inside his counting-house when you are gone.
By this fidelity the world is healed.
Fathers lacking gifts spread toxic seed: all holocausts are on them.
Neglecting your own son is treachery so black all other goods are blacked.
It would be better for the world if you were never born: a pox on your vas deferens.
Hate the Nobel prize, hate the masterpiece, hate the cure for cancer: want your son.
You want him when he feels it.
He will not know he feels it till you die.
