Poetry

Home Ode

Weather and evening corralled the horses inside.
Our engines idled, cooled, then died.
Suddenly yet expectantly (as ice or apple pie)
Boring holes in us with collapsible eyes —
Like summer left us in an awful rush,
So the bent boys gasped
As tall awkward girls cried.

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Cancer Journey

Son of a Canferatu

From Werner Herzog’s remake with Klaus Kinski as Nosferatu, based mostly on the silent Murnau adaptation of the Stoker novel, I leave you with a quote, and one that says maybe it’s not Lucy with whom I should resonate, but the monster himself:
“To be unable to grow old is terrible… Death is not the worst…”

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Poetry

Foresting

Gently in my hands, I cup
(Like my heart) a broken shell.
A deserted robin’s egg, hatched
Speckled turquoise, open,
Fallen from branches, a cradle
Rocked by the wind’s hands
From the green canopy above.

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