Poetry

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

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Cancer Poetry, Poetry

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.

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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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Friendship and Cancer

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.

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