Oddments

In search of story


6 Comments

Connections: September 6.17

I went to the dentist’s yesterday

and as soon as I walked in

I started sneezing my head off

it made an awful din.

WachOOOwachOOOwachOOOwachOOO!!

My breath — I couldn’t catch it!

My head flew off and rolled

I had to run to fetch it!

WachOOOwachOOOwachOOO!

all the long drive home

my head expanding rapidly

into a throbbing dome.

I cozied up to kleenex

 and spent a rotten night

wachOOOwachOOOwachOOOing

 snuffling through the blight.

No clue what hit so sudden

or how this will play out

I only know this morning

I’m a red-nosed layabout.

If lookers want to see my house

with its kleenex dunes and blots

I’ll simply say wachOOOwachOOO

and ask if they’ve had their shots.

 

 

 

Connections

 

 

Advertisements


2 Comments

Connections: August 2.17

“I get around”

 ah, Beach Boys and youth!

A few things have changed,

but it’s still the truth:

from surfboard to cane

we do what we must

so keep up or back off,

and pardon our dust!

 

 

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives

and a resounding beep-beep to D.J. Berg’s sense of adventure.

Connections

 


4 Comments

Connections: July 12.17

The aging gardener

captured here

tells the story

loud and clear:

sunburn, sweat

arthritic knee

callous, puncture

sting of bee

ideas spawned

by maniac

with creaking

sacroiliac

swollen knuckle

blackened nail

back and shoulder

growing frail

in love of plants

all too transparent

oft perceived

as blithe aberrant

and yet withal

a kind of glow

why is that?

who can know?

 

 

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

Connections

 


2 Comments

Vagaries in Gestation: On Being Linear, Part V, April 5.17

The pillow of an insomniac

cleaved by her back

tells of her vigil

sitting upright

in the black cold syrup

of slow minutes

the hour of the wolf

they call it

because it stalks the weak

because it devours

nothing changes in her grey room

but behind her eyes

the pageant of life

and death

rehearsing every misspoken line

rebreathing every choked breath

rewalking every unknowable path

sitting up

but wandering

trapped

amid the masks and powdered wigs

of

judges

and mimes.

Vagaries in Gestation


5 Comments

Connections: January 30.17

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERAEpistaxis

word so dressy

but it’s still nosebleed

obnoxious, messy.

I have this thing

called H.H.T.*

commonest symptom

nosebleeds, you see.

So people say

“What a big yawn —

I’ve had nosebleeds

they’ve come and they’ve gone.”

Not for me

with H.H.T.

Instead of blood vessels

with cute little capillaries

I have kinky pretzel-like

vascular vagaries.

Some are big

and some are small

but “older” and “weaker”

apply to them all.

From brain in the north

to legs in the south

the bleed that startles most

is the one in the mouth,

that look to which

I most aspire:

the dripping, sated

happy vampire.

I’m sick and tired

of all the red tissue

but I realize this

really isn’t the issue.

The headlines fill me

with fear and foreboding

the whole bloody mess

is too near exploding.

Epistaxis is just

that last mythic straw

which gets the angst

unstuck from my craw.

*Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasias, aka Osler-Weber-Rendu Syndrome,

a genetic bleeding disorder I tried to describe previously in In Our Blood.

It’s about a lot more than nosebleeds.

Connections