"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Hands up if you are:

a holy mess

an un-holy mess

not on duty





Without resorting to hyperbole   all of these are true for me

The indifference switch has been thrown    Metamorphosis

button broken


Every morning at 10:15 he has a Molson Canadian   at 10:26

a Marlboro    11:24  2nd beer+umpteenth butt   Mostly he stands

out there & tries to catch me naked    Jeans  biker jacket   Lanny

Mcdonald  ‘stache    My cool guy from rooming house on corner

does not realize that I am  Coma-Woman    A cardboard rendition

of a once emotionally turbulent operating system


So is this dormancy?

40 winks?

Or perma- torpidity?


It really doesn’t matter much to me   Under the spell of reverie

Of life flashing before me constantly   This gorgeous transfixion

in slo-mo


We all seem to complain that Bob Dylan is incomprehensible

in concert these days    Maybe we simply no longer hear  the

nasal nuances    No longer care  where the answer is blowin

So fixated are we on the questions   Where will we be  in 20 yrs.

has suddenly taken on a whole new meaning   Hands up if this is

the most depressing poem you’ve had the pleasure of reading


Arlene Kogod  Center for Aging  Mayo Clinic: For example, we don’t

want to have a situation where we say, cure cancer and then you

die of Alzheimer’s or stroke. It would be better to delay all of these 



Now there’s a scientist on her toes  reading the zeitgeist  massaging the

numbers   Smart as a tack        Bring it Arlene



Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin’

I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.  

Bob Dylan  Mr. Tambourine Man



Late Fall   2014



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