Time Elapsing

I 've only now gotten the computer back in the house after many weeks. I've been sick a couple of months and it's bad. Pancreatic cancer, liver cancer, both inoperable, untreatable, impenetrable. In hospital a few weeks, out of it now, a few weeks, in hospice now at home and totally weak. Don't know how much time is left, but it could be short. I suppose i'll be a bad writer from now on and a worse speller...

BP SATAN

And then one day British Petroleum decided that they would fuck the Universe and that no one could stop them or make them admit it or force them to pay with their lives for it. "Tough shit, America, we're a corporation with all the God-given rights that your stupid-ass corrupt politicians gave us!" Although the corporation is Satan, we'll never be able to do a fuckass thing about it!

I Hear From No One

I hear from no one much Or at least very seldom. Some send me their junk mail, Though it’s not clear if they don’t know the difference Or if it’s only that they think I won’t know it… I’ll read the first few words of anything, Though that don’t mean it doesn’t make me mad. There’s no longer any purpose in getting mad, though, Just as there is none in practicing indifference to one and all. I prowl the broken teeth and bones Of my array in the mirror And wish for more input in the soup, Though I’m expecting less. rcs. Current draft: 5/22/2010 Created on 5/20/2010 10:58 AM

Straight View

Can you cure me of what ails me Or cure the ailment of its attachment to myself? Is there any hope or spell for anyone I know Or just these strange straight views down long deserted roads? rcs. Current draft: 5/17/2010 Created on 5/17/2010 6:57 PM

The Pristine Blonde

I think she was a pristine girl Who went out into the world With many delusions and intentions, One of which was to sleep with Jews and Negroes To prove her liberality—whether to herself Or to the white-bread world she came from. I was never certain, but I’m certain that she thought so! Alas, that I was white and Protestant. rcs. Current draft: 5/20/2010 Created on 4/25/2010 10:54 AM

Grateful Or Not

Not one of my lovers Were ever much like me or even close, But for that I should be grateful. I should probably even roll over and play dead. Almost all those I loved, you see, were guilty In some small respect of things I’d never believe, Things I couldn’t imagine that I’d ever tolerate. Now that they are gone, I’ve reflected, find I was mistaken… I suppose it’s just that I’ve discovered and suffered for How I miss them, how hard it’s been to replace them, How feeble is my existence, growing old without their faces, Without those native traces, voices, and embraces to keep me. rcs. Current draft: 5/19/2010 Created on 5/15/2010 8:31 PM

Carmen Delzell (Opposites)

I hear the voice of an American woman living in Mexico. She speaks of her attachments to nature in a rural landscape With 2 burros, 9 dogs, and some chickens. She is immersed, it seems, Though she is also uncomfortable and lonely. She is similar—however opposite—to myself. Once in a while, she sees a truck drive down her dusty road, Whereas I live immersed in modern-life’s most unnatural world Where it’s always hard to see the stars And cars are always passing me by, And I am almost always uncomfortable in it. rcs. Current draft: 5/18/2010 Created on 5/15/2010 6:30 PM

Too Late

It’s getting too late to die young, So I’ll have to live with that— Though I cannot say how long.

Beautiful Day, My Ass

“It’s a beautiful day,” the house-painter said each morning as I went out, and it always seemed such garbage to me. I’m sure that sunny days must be of worth To those who work outdoors, But I don’t work and I’ve been sick so long, It doesn’t mean a rat’s-ass thing to me. rcs. Current draft: 5/4/2010 Created on 5/4/2010 1:36 PM

In The Flame

I don’t really care for living, I fear, But I’m incapable of facing death— Not the rope or the jolt or any drowning or the gun. There’s nothing to it, I am told, but I can’t get there. I just stay stuck here in the flame in dread and doubt And never leap for heart’s true beauty or go out. Now when I ache I don’t know what for, but only That there are few if any hearts that break for it. I can’t pretend to pray for it Or expect any other to see to it And fail myself to see that this old heart, when divulged, Is anything more than it ever was. Sad songs and movies Never used to make me weep Nor illness, age, or death, And I would as lief return there Where a grievous song was only a song And my heart among life’s beauties was ever mine to give. rcs. Current draft: 5/10/2010 Created on 5/5/2010 4:27 PM

Delight

You were always such a good girl. It made it more delightful to me That you chose me at one time to do those bad things with! You were so nice, I mean, if not good! You were nice to your parents, To your friends and those who weren’t And even those who weren’t likely to be. Even me now that my life is lived in spite and nearly over. You’ve always been a sweet kind soul, And well-behaved and intelligent, too— And that made you not only tolerable to me, But one of the few who could tolerate me! rcs. Current draft: 5/8/2010 Created on 4/23/2010 3:15 PM

Missing You

I miss her a little still, it’s true, but I miss you more and you’re still here. I missed out somewhere In a long-ago dream that never ceased, I took a long step across a too wide stream When things got too real and I wetted myself, Whether anyone knew of it or not. It was only a misstep, Combined with something I lost or threw out When it didn’t seem like anything of very much value. I was unquestionably mistaken, But I know I can’t take it back. I miss you when I cannot caress or even kiss you, But there’s nothing new in that. rcs. Current draft: 5/07/2010 Created on 4/20/2010 9:36 PM

from "Things Are Strange" or "Things Have Changed"

Bob Dylan: Feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet Putting her in a wheelbarrow and wheeling her down the street

IN MY LIFE

(By Lennon/McCartney) There are places I remember All my life though some have changed Some forever not for better Some have gone and some remain All these places have their moments With lovers and friends I still can recall Some are dead and some are living In my life I've loved them all But of all these friends and lovers There is no one compares with you And these memories lose their meaning When I think of love as something new Though I know I'll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more Though I know I'll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more In my life I love you more

Swiss Cheese Memory

I had an odd remembrance the other day. First I recalled the ascot I wore for a couple of my teenage years, probably in the same time period that I bought into the popularity of Carnaby Street--you know, all those splashy colors, sometimes with white cuffs on colored or striped shirts, sometimes white collars that also contrasted. I recall also a blazer that I guess you'd call a dark gold; if there was some other name for the color, I never learned it. Maybe some called it "tan", though I don't recall it. At any rate, I remember that the ascot went with the blazer, though I can't recall the ascot's color or if it had spots or stripes or any other pattern. Ain't memory a wonderful thing when it decides to leave so many holes in the fabric?

How Or Why

I know you’re younger than me And none of my business, But I wish I had a pretty woman like you to kiss Once again before I forget how or why. But I’m really just admiring you When I didn’t know I did— I don’t mean for you to feel discomfort Or to start to wonder when I’ll die. rcs. Current draft: 5/1/2010 Created on 4/27/2010 3:54 PM

Strangely enough, this is post #2,222.

Forever Young

by Bob Dylan May God bless and keep you always May your wishes all come true May you always do for others And let others do for you May you build a ladder to the stars And climb on every rung May you stay forever young Forever young, forever young May you stay forever young May you grow up to be righteous May you grow up to be true May you always know the truth And see the lights surrounding you May you always be courageous Stand upright and be strong May you stay forever young Forever young, forever young May you stay forever young May your hands always be busy May your feet always be swift May you have a strong foundation When the winds of changes shift May your heart always be joyful May your song always be sung May you stay forever young Forever young, forever young May you stay forever young Copyright © 1973 by Ram's Horn Music; renewed 2001 by Ram’s Horn Music

Kill The Sidebar

One of the recent changes I made at Judy Garland's Blues (poetry blog) that I really like was to get rid of the sidiebar by changing the template to the "Simple II" that's been around a long time, but seldom turns up on blogs because sidebars are so popular. I decided they were unneeded claptrap in a dedicated poetry blog. Besides, the sidebar items can still be found if you make it to the bottom of the blog. Just a small alteration, but I like it.

Where Is That Painted Lady?

Here's a link to a poem written in my old age about the "first love" of my youth. As I've done previously with other poems that were either long or of very special quality (this one is a little of both), it's located at my poetry blog, "JUDY GARLAND'S BLUES". See this poem about love and loss and art and beauty and remembrance, if you wish, at PAINTED LADY.

I Weep For Poems And People

(For My Aunts Pearl and Louise Who Died The Same Day This Week) I weep for poems that went astray And people who seem long-gone as dust That some ill wind blew away eons ago, But they only now have died. I weep as if for a stranger on a sinking ship or for That fraught overwrought final bearer at the eternal pall— We’re dead-fast running out of time And good simple souls and tissues for our tears. rcs. Current draft: 4/28/2010 Created on 4/26/2010 3:51 PM