Go unconscious and replicate

fatherhood is all those bad memories but
that's too simple it is instead, revived
a series of emails about the Beatles
a set of dead flowers an almanac about rain
in none of which is mentioned the beatings
the times when some giant stood over me saying
you are worthless, or asking, one remembers the asking
most of all, are you a piece of shit? -- note, please, this
is not in quotation marks. Perhaps
it is free indirect fucking discourse
for perhaps that is all that I can remember
assuming, of course, that no real human
could have stood above anyone spewing such
endless fields over which curlews tremor and trill.
In which case, as Epicurus said,
fuck off.