Tag: fear

Three and Counting

In cloudy skies we can point to everything,
To find similarity and we described it
In high school English to empty the milk cartons of meaning.
Gentlemen reflect in receding ice cubes and
Swinging across Elm into urbanite cock fights.
Floating, melting into her whiskey colored eyes
The missus distributes disambiguated dinners
With a side of dry rye wit

Follow the Queen

Ladies wearing smart suits
Tahitian pearl chokers
Rhinestone bangle bracelets
Bengal tiger-print hot pants.
A real mistress
Ends in a whisper
Her knowledge sits stuck
In the back of a cab.
Like all irrelevant souvenirs.

Sloop John B. aka Let Me Go Home

So hoist up the John B’s sail See how the main sail sets Call for the Captain ashore Let me go home, let me go home I want to go home Well I feel so broke up I want to go home Hoist up the John-b sail. See how the main sail sets, I groan

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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…”

Friendship, Cancer, and The Jokers

Hey, congratulations you’ve got stage IV cancer of the breast and bone lesions. Well, that explains why I wasn’t feeling so well. I recall receiving an email right before that most horrible week from a good friend and the email required my immediate attention. My attention won’t relate to anything at all back then when I had the diagnosis come down on me so hard I didn’t know when or where I was in the scheme of life. I don’t think I even opened email from back then yet. It sits, unread in my inbox – all of it.

My Loves Electric (Not Anymore)

Depression and cancer. The locks to my prison, to which keys do not exist; there’s no cure, and there’s no future with happiness together as a team, the team I really counted on – but as Einstein said not all things that can be counted, should.

Half a Block Away

There is no greater sorrow than to recall the misery in time we were happy – Dante A belligerent handshake, a reluctantly shared cab. “You know where to let me out?” Your smile, a dagger, Mouth unwrapping secrets, your sleeves full of cards. My stomach twists into a gilded fist, so hard, Throwing a kiss,

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I can’t trace time…

As the miraculously sentient creatures of earth with the gift of forethought and planning, sometimes, our little giddinness producing miracles go sideways. New plans must take the place of a road not taken. Make some adjustments to life, or in other words, change. Change happens regardless of those Steinbeckian mice and men and their ne’er

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Angelic Details

Lampfish unevolved, light the crevice, (otherworldly!) Blindly finding their ceviche (weirdly!) A dinner time resevation for one, Below the heaving inky pressures Seas lifting other treasures. Above on uboats rocking, spit roasted on a gun, On rising waves. Cresting, comes the new, Seemingly unborn facing headlong, due east. Darwinian measures for Blackbeards pleasures, Never found

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I live postoperatively. While daylight casts shadows back east, these hours used and reserved positions like reclining for flying and appointments and tests. Before stage 4, a lap formed by sitting posed an imposition on daily routines. Sex and sleeping happen in bed. Lights dimmed or off. Today my husband hugs at my good side. My left side.

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