My poem, “I Laugh,” is live at Stone Circle Review. Many thanks to editor Lee Potts for taking this piece, another from my hendecasyllabic series.
Poem Up at Stone Circle Review
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Category Archives: creative writing
Poem Nominated for Pushcart Prize
My poem, “Horses,” has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize by MockingHeart Review! Many thanks to editor Tyler Robert Sheldon for his support and kindness over the years.
Poems Up at Taos Poetry Journal
My poems, “The Mathematics of Dying” and “Reliquary” are live, with a cover reveal of my debut full-length collection, Our Loveliest Bruises, at the Taos Journal of Poetry. I am indebted to editor Catherine Strisik for her generosity and multiple kindnesses over the years.
Poem Up at Vox Populi
My poem, “Nothing of Heaven,” is live at Vox Populi. Many thanks to editor Michael Simms for his support and kindness over the years.
Poems Up at Pineberry Literary Journal
My poems, “Exile” and “Sleepless” are live at the fist issue of Pineberry Literary Journal. Many thanks to the editorial team for taking these pieces.
Poem Up at Vox Populi
My poem, “Dream Score,” is live at Vox Populi. Many thanks to editor Michael Simms for his support and kindness over the years.
Poem Up at Third Wednesday
My poem, “Ghazal of the Birds,” is live at Third Wednesday. Many thanks to editor David Jibson and the Third Wednesday team for taking this ghazal.
Celebration 6
6
Today is my birthday. Six months ago I did not think I’d see this day. But here I am, celebrating Stephanie’s smile, the morning’s first sip of coffee, snowflakes (just a few, but hey!), modern science, the wisdom of Snoopy, friendship, love, and yes, my continuing existence. I am a lucky man.
Prayer
Death does not choose you at random
but approaches at your pace, rumbling
downhill or floating in the air,
debris or dandelion fluff,
concealed yet evident.
Listen: a small cloud bumps another,
merging into one larger being —
can you hear its ecstasies?
All the world’s souls, gathered.
“Prayer” was first published in Soul-Lit.
Celebration 5
5
Woe is me! Break out the tiny violins! I am in full-whine mode!
Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers. Add, divide, multiply, subtract. Take note, shift columns. Despair. For months, the numbers have been backhanding me, to and fro, up and down. Bullying, mocking, teasing mercilessly, always heading in the wrong direction. Property taxes have increased. Life expectancy has plummeted. The bank account is steadily dwindling. With my illness, work, or a job, isn’t really feasible, though occasionally I sell a book or two (not mine, mostly scholarly or collectible tomes), which brings in a few bucks. And inflation! Everything costs more. Just a few years ago I seldom paid more than a dollar a pound for chicken thighs. Nowadays we’re lucky to pay four times that amount. And so it goes.
But, a few weeks ago, the numbers finally stepped in firmly on my side! In May, scans showed that my lung cancer had spread to the brain; nine small lesions were found, cause for concern, as you might imagine. Now, nine is a fascinating number, majestic, mystical, some might say. Multiply it by two, and you get 18. Add the two digits that comprise 18, one and eight, and you get 9. Multiply it by three: 27. Total the two digits forming 27, and you get, yes, 9. Multiply it by four, by five, by six, by seven, eight or nine. Fifteen. Twenty. Add the digits that comprise the sum and you return to nine. Interesting, no?*
But I’ve digressed. Nine is not the digit one wants to hear when discussing the number of lesions manifested in one’s brain. That was the situation a few months ago. But now, apparently, the numbers have taken my side, and I no longer need concern myself with that figure. Recent scans revealed that the lesions have resolved; they’ve disappeared! In other words, the treatment is working. Oh, the cancer is still with me elsewhere, but after months of bad report after bad report, the news is finally trending in the right direction.
So today I praise the magical number nine, which, in my case, has transformed itself into nothing, a circumstance most worthy of commemoration. What numbers do you celebrate, and why?
*If this sounds familiar, you may have read my essay originally posted here in February 2014.
Celebration 4
4
In my desk, nestled among the odd assortment of books and keepsakes (including Hashimoto, my stuffed toy dog companion of nearly sixty years), sits an old, chipped, cut glass ashtray bearing eclectic objects. The ashtray was my mother’s, and was one of the few possessions she was able to bring with her to the U.S. after she married my dad. It’s a rather ironic keepsake, as my mom, a heavy smoker for some sixty years, died from lung cancer, and it appears that I will, too, though I’ve never smoked. Nevertheless, it remains one of my most prized possessions. In it, you’ll find an old, broken, silver pocket watch (a father’s day gift to my dad in the late 70s), a lock of Stephanie’s hair, my dad’s original army dog tags, multiple mandolin and guitar picks, including one given to me by Kinky Friedman, author, musician, and one-time candidate for governor for the state of Texas, and various polished stones. Not one of these items has great monetary value, yet they’re all priceless to me. They all have stories.
What are your treasures? How did they come to be so valued? What are their stories?
O at the Edges 