POEM: Lifeline

unwisely I yearn to grasp
to grab, to hold on
to what is only possible
instead of the probable
or the likely
I want stronger lines
tethering my spirit

because to see Hope’s dark side
is to glimpse that offering
held just out of reach
but dangled enticingly
a frayed promise
made to be broken

POEM: room with a view

People listen when you have cancer
they stop, hanging on every word I say
funny
suddenly my thoughts have more weight
as if I’ve opened a door to wisdom
closed to every one else

Maybe there is such a door
open to me now
new vistas on the other side
perspective shifted
clarity comes in waves
unbidden

But I’m not sure about the wisdom part
perhaps that is not it
perhaps the only thing I have learned
from glimpsing behind that door
that heavy, terrible door
is that I know less than I ever dreamed
my view, unimpeded by triviality
unlocked
goes on for miles

POEM: residue

cancer has left a trail
of dust and debris
that has no where to go
it can’t be swept up
trying to
only scatters the particles
more and more
creating a hazy cloud
swirling in the sunbeam
where it might have been missed
dancing defiantly in the light
until a shadow comes
and all evidence disappears
from view

sometimes
others unknowingly pass thru
without realizing
everything in sight
is covered in a thin dusty layer
the residue my reminder
of futility

POEM: Janis knew

I remember singing Bobby McGee
eyes closed tight
lost completely in the moment
pouring all my angst
into each simple line
as I rocked back and forth
strumming the guitar intently

I lacked a little of the rasp
that signature voice
the edge that comes with age
or from knowing the deep ache
of hard blues, intimately
yet still fresh
entrenched in youth
when I first learned the song
I could hardly have known
what was to come
what there was to be lost

“Freedom’s just another word
for nothin’ left to lose”

I will never be free like that again
and I do miss it fondly
the loss pulls tight at me sometimes
on a late summer night like this
mournful of all that has come to pass

meaning awakens realization now
I know that freedom can be traded
or lost like a poor soul
every wisdom comes with a price
mine is to know that I have everything
and that it is all so beautifully fleeting

I think Janis knew too

POEM: shrill cricket!

Shrill cricket, let me write!

Why must you challenge me so?
Can’t you be peaceful
like the ladybug on my chair
so small it nearly went unnoticed
delicate and unobtrusive
she flitted gracefully away
before I had a chance to count
the spots on her fluttering wings

But you, damned cricket
uninvited guest, unseen
but clearly heard
with your piercing cry
relentless, unnerving
you tell a different story
harsh reminder
of the songs I want to sing
but have not yet begun
and may not get a chance to
for interruptions
unplanned

POEM: birth of a scar

raw, ravaged and torn
my flesh gapes wide

new tissue
looks nothing like what I thought
no pink, delicate flesh
but angry growth

instead
rages beneath the exterior
a glimpse of what lies underneath
the subtly of skin
the birth of a deep scar, well earned

POEM: necrosis

death is not always big
sometimes it is small
and quiet
decomposing unseen
until it is too late
death can grow
spreading decay
consuming flesh & soul
transforming beauty into
the ugliest of truths
that nothing is sacred
nothing is safe
nothing is beyond its grasp
sometimes when small things die
they leave big holes behind
deeper than they look
emitting a rancid stench
hope, putrified