First, my health is OK, I went to Stanford yesterday to see my BMT doctor, specifically to see how he felt about me getting a hip replacement. He told me about 50% of long-term steroid users suffer bone loss and need joints replaced, and he encouraged me to get a MRI and see if the hip is fractured; he thought it probably was. He also recommended the bone loss medications – Fossamax, Citrical, and vitamin D. I am an old lady. My blood pressure continues to run high, and he wants me to go on medications to lower that. I probably should cut back on the 5 cups of coffee I am drinking first, and see what that does. It is the only drug addiction I have left, so I am scared.
Right around our 24th anniversary, November 23, Dana and I decided we needed a separation for a time, a ‘trial’ separation, so I no longer live at Wavertree, I now live in a very serene place on the outskirts of SLO, with a 5-acre field out my front (only) door, nice views in every direction from every room, a nice garden, 3 quiet and studious students as neighbors, lots of critters, and beautiful sunrises and sunsets. Great place to think and ponder and write, and that’s what I am doing.
My front yard
Typical sunrise
I am working on my serenity, my quietness, muting my trumpet, and I am delving into my Tao. I am taking Tai Chi, and Pilates, and volunteering in a few places. I have gone to some poetry readings and shared some of the stuff I have written lately. I spend an hour each morning writing, whatever pops out, and I have a number of projects I need to get going on once I finish the office this weekend. I have internet only through a Droid phone, and that is a pain at times, and I am struggling to put together a decent PC.
Settling into another house took a lot of work, been at it since Dec. 20 and it’s just about done. I was a vagabond for a few weeks in early Dec. - thank you Lia for the use of your house. Life is serene.
Gutted
When they tore me apart,
look what fell out,
green fields and hills,
pink skies, dog fur and
womens’ rounded butts,
hair and teeth and old sutures,
benign cysts, red death,
an Ipod and old hiking shoes,
bad poems and cowboy music,
stale and moldy love,
misplaced blame, lost trust.
All of Us
Been through it all now,
been through some anyhow.
Compressed, indented, insulted,
infuriated, enraged, encaged.
Poked, prodded, tested,
abused, teased, squeezed, diseased.
Ejected, rejected, selected, disinfected.
Gloved and loved, hugged and bugged
Body burned and broken, drowned, irradiated,
parts falling out, poisons pouring in,
my own Three Mile Island,
Chernobyl, Bhopal,
Think global act local.
I tamped down the fear, the pain, the anger, the memory,
to cope, to hope?
To feed my ego, my addiction, my inferno.
Been through it all now that
you cracked the egg
of my comfort,
spilled the stuffing of love
from my pillow, tossed
me out of bed.
I flailed in the yolk of my sins,
bits of feather and shell stuck
to my knees and elbows as I crawl
from the wreckage and the fire, back from Hell.
Am I Lazarus, or the Phoenix, or Sisyphus?
Or just not here, not now?
Dispose-All Pain
The dispose-all is broken,
so the dregs and sins of my cooking,
egg shells, celery ends, burnt toast,
apple cores and carrot tops,
are piling up in a bowl on the countertop.
The ill-fitting lid doesn’t hold back the decay
while they wait to be buried.
The fruit flies have found it,
and fly in my face to thank me.
It’s like Haiti in this bowl.
I don’t have a lid that fits,
and the dispose-all is broken.
I have to see the refuse,
can’t just flush it away,
get it out of sight.
They are cutting off
limbs like carrot tops
and celery ends, no anesthesia.
Do the carrots cry out in pain
in a language I don’t understand,
or I just can’t hear them?
I empty the bowl into a hole
I dig in the yard,
and go to the store
for a new dispose-all.
Burrito of Love
All those tragic love songs,
poems about broken hearts,
true loves torn asunder –
their tears cover the earth.
I fold them all into a
giant burrito of love for you,
rice and beans to show how
I’m stuck on you,
cheeses and sour cream to show how
our love has aged but must stay fresh.
I add some chicken to give
my love burrito some more protein,
so you’ll have the power
to love me back.
Tomatoes, avocados, lettuce and onion,
plus a little cilantro and salsa,
all of the earth as is our love, organic and
eternal, all-powerful,
filled with god,
all wrapped in an
extra-large tortilla,
zero grams trans-fats.
I fold the ends,
trying to contain all the
love and emotion of
all those love songs,
all those poems,
‘Somewhere I Have Never Travelled Gladly Beyond,’
and ‘Love, Love Me Do,’
without spilling any rice
or leaking any salsa passion.
I give you this burrito,
but then you say,
‘No thanks, I already ate.’
I love my dryer
My major appliance just can’t get hot.
It could be her igniter is shot.
If that isn’t it, it might be the fuse,
or the optical sensor’s seen too much abuse.
Is she set up for propane
and I’m giving her gas?
I’ll have to convert her,
what a pain in the ass.
Could be she’s electric
and just not plugged in,
or she tripped the breaker –
I’ll flip it and try agin’.
If she’d just get hot
I’d live a clean life,
My major appliance
Would become my wife.
Whirlpool, Amana, Maytag, GE,
Spinning and heating and tumbling me.
Waffle Break is Over
The finches are telling me
what to do,
prune the tree, move the feeder,
add some seed,
hurtle headlong through space,
find a friend, call your mom.
What happened to that
finch I loved,
golden feathers, smelled like flowers,
sang so sweet?
Oh, here is another,
golden feathers, smells like flowers,
sings so sweet.
Thank you all for your support through the leukemia ordeal. Life goes on, and then it ends. Be at peace.
