Archive for cancer

“Bermuda Urn”

Posted in Image Poetry, One Stop Poetry, Poetry Reading, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 25, 2011 by dustus

When is life held in gold russet skies?
Vermilion glows, seagull glides…
Or cremation of muscle pulp
Mortar and pestled brain
Grains of sand trapped
Fevered oasis, metempsychosis
Cuticles and burnt hands
Without explanation as to how
We crawl from water, withstand
Nor why free radicals spread illness
Universal mitosis, for giving, then taking,
Our time…

Your body could not win that fight
Razed to die, its own undoing

Condensed via fire into a “Bermuda Urn”
Calling it that throughout your hurt
One lifetime more than a story…
Prior to sailing north of cancer

Her wit seldom lost then
Leaving me now without her laughter

Ex rays, cat scans, biopsies, skin grafts
Vomit, holding her hair back
Malignant ugly purplish bruising
Red bandanna covering bald head
Still meaning each word, every single thing
When I said that you were beautiful
Won’t forget those long drives
Venting for lest it drain in truth

Trips over The Ambassador Bridge
Both loving Vonnegut

Trying not to go broke dying
PT, OT, loss of limb
Watching her struggle on prosthetic leg
Her arm shook supported by cane
Painfully—self-awareness of living unable

Sadly, cursing fate
And all lifelong “friends”
Who out of convenience

Walked away

Before her fatal conclusion; there was a will
She planned a “Bermuda Urn” in pink ink

That made me squint at the torn spiral page
For herself spread, becoming over ocean

Immunity being without design here
Unlike a box of Wheaties, Shredded Wheat
“So it goes…”  Incomplete
You were my champion
In the throes of cosmic jokes
Left in trade winds of connection
Charred vestiges of insanity
Love, I’ll always miss you
Wishing you would come back to me

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Surreally Now (Flash Fiction 55)

Posted in Flash Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 19, 2010 by dustus

Beneath bevel-edged glass, without bordering frames, walls of colorful abstracts pool surreally now. Don’t know what to make of it? Life, poor gaunt man spent priceless moments when study walls talked back; mocking yellow streaks between paintings.

Perspiring lead molecules, maddening thoughts joyful— what’s left of creation before illusions radiate nerves virally like cancerous growth.

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*Dustus Friday post on One Shot Poetry set for midnight EST tonight!