spent last night in the emergency room, thinking i possibly was having a stroke. it didn't turn out that bad. the hospital tests revealed other issues, and i probably should see my family doctor fairly soon and have a set of stress tests and more blood tests on my liver to clear up some ambiguities that appeared last night. basically, last night seems to have been a combination of lack of sleep, stress and "other" factors resulting in "complications".
no - the comment section will not be opened in the immediate future. i am not looking for sympathy, contact or anything else, just mentioning what's shaking, and that (as seems to be the norm) posts will be irregular at best in the future. Anyway, such is the state of affairs.
a poem from 12:27:93
FOR GRANDFATHER: JONATHAN NORTHUP
you: who took up a gun when you were not old enough to understand killing upon the wet fields of a 1917 france
who spent the rest of your life trying to give back life
like you could resurrect those eroded bodies with goodwill & dreams
the giants would never win the world series in your lifetime
though you prayed near perfect prayers
& as i now lay in your dying stance
the only birthday i can recall:
i was 16 & you were two months ahead of a coffin
& you brought a goose for my dinner
i still taste the rich syrups
as i remember your yellow smile
telling me the giants would be back
as long as someone believed in them
you: who took pain on a detour, laughing at the dreams of your grandchildren upon the wet leaves of eucalypus field
who gave the tools of dreaming to those who had not yet learned
smiling that yellow smile: believing the dead that forgive live forever
the poetry and rambling thoughts of a working class poet
