Three and a half A.M. I doing my three awake then two to snooze cancer induced sleep cycle. Been a wee hours drill for a couple of months now.

Speaking of cancer, health professionals think they have found yet another one that’s ready to party with that stage four prostate trend setter. Sure to throw some quality of life issues into the ways of the proffered endgame.

So be it. Big deal. So what. I’ll tell you what.

It’s hurting Snz. She’s dealing with me in my seventies, a Mom in her mid eighties, and a Dad who just turned ninety. She’s the real victim here. Worried about all. Aware of the odds. Unsure of the next step inherent in this real world and triple threat.

I don’t know how she’s doing it. Yes I do. We’ve been together for damn near four decades. She has skills, and tools, and is no fool and suffers none. Well she exempts me from the fool equation. She amazes me and I adore her. Always have.

She’s my heart. And my strength and always my champion. How do I tell her just that six months from now. How do I let her know. I’m gonna find a way. I will find a way. Thanks for listening.

Filigree and Ink, I Ain’t

Bought an E-book
of Thug Lit
in a fit
of a search
to perch
and perhaps
poach
some sub-genre
game

but the Warden
of my many weaknesses,
clued:

you have no pen
for romance

—

Concordat

Line by line
to pronounce and parse…

Yes, but.
I read not, the poem,
I overhear the poet

a colloquy of an unconscious conspiracy,
I suspect…
This semi-scripted eavesdrop

a listen in,
to a well routed happenstance,
hopefully

—

---

---

In celebration of the recognition of my public expiration date, we fine dined with whine and wine… and then, just on time… ordered a firewall off the menu. A gated corner to decompose, I suppose, and juxtapose rickety rhyme with the arthritic current. Politics, like crack, can crumble a community. And poems have cities sacked. So to host the post behind lock and key is thus this April’s journey. A spring in my step.