In which our heroine finds herself clutched in the monster’s filthy, razor sharp claws, afraid for her life. Introduction: The scripting process begins and ends This narrative slowly opens and possibly took several years for the writer to realize the finished script. Editing the story of a life continues beyond publication, past the timeline of… Read More Canferatu: The Prequel
My daily meditation for finding peace and light, even through darker days of physical and emotional pain.… Read More Worth a repost
Traversing my inner space wearing the lens of metastatic disease, my inner eye wanders into dark places at times. The glasses have me reading invisibilities into ideas that have no real importance. Ideas such as what my life’s purpose what could I possibly serve the world when at the moment I was diagnosed with #metastatic breast cancer three years ago, my needs far outweigh my ability to give. Many days my questions return only an inner sigh of response. My contributions and defining myself and my roles becomes so foggy, so unclear to me.… Read More Peace, Peace: our universe of caregivers
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… Read More Three and Counting
A blue velvet bag opened by this single Movement – her hand reached Into the spaciousness above And all stars’ light unpacked, and Secreted away in drawer full of daydreams. Now the seashore glistens With the promise of night, and Eternally luminous With all the befores, And all the ever afters, Moving our millions of tears Into a single smiling river. “Goodnight my beautiful bodies,” And we fly away home, laughing.… Read More Fly Away Home, Blessed Body
Yearning for my partner’s support and the kind of tender and caring love many of which many metastatic sisters write and blog about, I now look over at him, home in bed, and find one whose dark, inky emotions remain locked away inside his heart, like the stars behind clouds in a dark night sky. He lays there disengaged, thinking to himself about things that cause long bouts of sighing, and the simmering anger of so many men who find themselves bitten by such disorders.… Read More One Fresh Hell, Hold the Tomatoes
Some of us arrive here for a respite from of a world severed from it’s once well mapped out future, now thrust into the cancer culture where we’ve a lot to share with each other. Care giver or cancer survivor we can walk hand and hand. We step to a rhythm of head nods of recognition as we see of ourselves in one another. That circle containing every one of us who still proves that we can live on as a reluctant card carrying member of Club Cancer. … Read More Lessons from the Present
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…”
… Read More Son of a Canferatu
Nestled pyramids, soldiers of sand,
No servants hand, no strangers.
No one died today, no saints
Made. Cat wore the Ankh,
Carried the dog headed staff,
Drawing along the sea crooked to
And fro on the sand, wand dragging… Read More Playing the Cat
Poetry Foundation I grow old … I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? T.S. Eliot The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock It’s 9:15 a.m., a frantic and rainy Monday after thanksgiving weekend, cars spinning like… Read More Bird with a wire