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| Kelemen Boldizsár |
DAD TIRED
He was so tired,
my tired Dad,
always tired.
He worked eighteen-hour days
in summer,
twelve in winter.
No one ever said, "Thank you,"
though we were
his reason.
His last day was in the field,
working still -
he worked himself to death.
Now he’s gone
now we know
now it’s too late.
His tractor drove
across his body
crushing bone and tissue.
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| Duane L. Herrmann |
With degrees in Education and History, Duane L. Herrmann has work published in print and online, in fifty-plus anthologies, over one hundred other publications (Gonzo Press, Tiny Seed Literary Journal, Page and Spine, etc), plus a sci fi novel, eight collections of poetry, a local history, stories for children, a book on fasting and other works, despite an abusive childhood with dyslexia, ADHD, cyclothymia, an anxiety disorder, a form of Mutism, and now, PTSD.
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