Here's a poem by a Michigan lad, Theodore Roethke, whose father ran a nursery and greenhouse business in Saginaw. This poem avoids all psycho-babble about love-hate relationships, childhood idealization of the father, family tensions and conflicts, the borderline between play and violence, whatever. It avoids those cliches and trite formulations by instead seeing specific things and moments of experience -- by imagery, in a word. As you read it, avoid cliché reactions having to do with dysfunctional families, alcoholism, child abuse, and oth ....