I Fell in Love...

With the curve of her hip.

Slashed my wrists in despair

Over sweet lips.

Smoldering eyes

Set me afire...

Reduced me to ash.

I gave my all

For a snaggle-toothed smile

(that, literally, drove me insane).

I kissed lips raw

Boiled my own blood dry

For Love

* * *

Spilled Wine

Looks gruesome, actually

Blood-red rivulets dripping down white painted walls

Not as bad, I suppose, as holes punched in drywall by bloody fists...

or skulls

It’s all relative

What’d been bottled up inside came uncorked

Mayhem ensued

White walls bled

Sheltering confines collapsed indented

Walls brought to ruin by ruined souls

Spilled wine cascaded

Blood flowed

* * *

Lithuania

It appears it’s finally gonna happen...I’m planning to fly to Lithuania this May with my cousin and my uncle. Three Dikinis men traipsing about in a foreign motherland. Alone/together. Kinda blows my mind.

This trip will be quite the adventure. My cousin, D, and I are easily mistaken for brothers. Here’s proof (from decades ago...I’m the dude on the right):



So, yeah, D’s one year younger but the genetics are obvious. He’s traipsed all over this planet searching for gems. Found a few. He’s raced Triumphs in full leathers. Still trying to break the land speed record on a diesel-powered cycle, in fact. Yep, he’s my blood. Gawd,
I can’t help but love him so!

And there’s my uncle, A, the only surviving brother of three. He's closing in on 70 and STILL plays full-contact hockey every Friday! He was the youngest, the craziest. He’s a sweet rogue, a bon vivant and careless spendthrift. And, oh, how he can dance! Lighter on his feet than Fred Astaire, I swear! Going anywhere with him is a guaranteed "experience." I’m gonna grip his hand tight as he buries the ashes of his brother, D, in a Lithuanian cemetery, just as his brother, my uncle, requested.

And then there’s this: it's an emotional experience for me to be in Lithuania (I visited once before in 1975). I understand and speak the language. I know the country's history and culture (though my parents never taught me all the cuss words). It's surreal to be in a foreign land that feels so familiar and yet remains so different. Vilnius (the capital) is a great walking city. It's one of too few medieval walled cities that hadn't been destroyed in war (although the Jewish quarter was completely obliterated by the Nazis). The last time I was there, I walked for 12+ hours/day just to explore every street. I was 24, then. I'm gonna find out how far these tired legs can propel me now. My only hope is that they carry me far enough.

I’m eager to discover all the backstreets and back ways of the heart.

* * *

Dreaming

For whatever reason, I’ve been experiencing incredibly vivid dreams lately. Trust me, this is quite a departure from the norm. A great many years have come and gone with nary a dark night dream noted.

Nothing worth remembering.

Something’s changed. Or maybe not.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ve grown aware.

Be whatever as it may, I’ve experienced a great many incredibly complex dreams lately.

Most revolve around my ex.

I wake spinning on an axis of knives.

* * *

Work in Progress

I’m a work in progress, as we all tend to be. I was bit further along a few years ago but sometimes, sadly, erasures happen. One stroke forward, two strokes back. Even so, and so be it, the work never stops.

Best to wear a hard hat.

* * *

Thank you Gabi for the inspiration.

Always when judging
Who people are,
Remember to footnote
The words "So far."

~Robert Brault

* * *

The Visitation

I woke startled. Confused. Someone was knocking on my front door. The bedside clock indicated it was the darkest hour before the dawn. I fumbled about trying hurriedly to slip on jeans and a tee-shirt.

Three more knocks.

They didn’t sound desperate, a rushed banging. Just three sharp, insistent raps.

Somewhat dazed, I rushed to the entry and opened the door. Nothing.

The thin veneer of fresh snow on steps and landing bore no footprints. All was quiet.

It would be an understatement to say I was perplexed as I closed the door and wandered back to bed.

I couldn’t shake the vague unease all day (this happened yesterday).

* * *

Parts of Me...

Parts of me really, REALLY liked her. She was smart. She was funny. Wicked funny. She spoke in a husky voice guaranteed to set pants on fire. She was generous. And when she moved? Well, believe you me, she could put most pole dancers to shame.

There’s more:

She loved to cook. She possessed an aesthetic sense that left me breathless (we loved the same poems). AND, she had crazy hair, was freckled and possessed a great rack.

She sported an ankle bracelet.

Yeah, parts of me really, REALLY liked her.

But...I didn’t measure up. I wasn't circumcised. I talked too much.

And I was prone to egregious public acts of generosity.

So it goes.

* * *

Tenderness

I believe most souls experience moments of tenderness

Moments to live for. Moments we remember...

Rare moments when Ego genuflects humbly before Heart

We can’t plan on any of this

Tenderness simply happens

And when it does....we experience Heaven

* * *

Winter Landscape

Long past midnight

A peek outside to revel in soft white

Snowflakes drift and tumble

Squirrels dream deliciously

Safely high on mast

Hearts blessed

* * *

Cancer

No, this is not about the Zodiac.

It’s about the basal cell carcinoma that made a home for itself
inside my temple.

As cancers go, this isn’t fearsome like most.

It doesn’t kill.

It scars.

Scars I can handle. I gots me quite a few.

Mostly on the inside.

Never had me a pretty face anyways.

Ain’t getting any prettier.

* * *

Duty Bound

The doctor is duty bound to proffer options. Hippocratic Oath and all that:

I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant:

I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures [that] are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.

I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.

I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery.

I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death.

If it is given to me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.

I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick.

I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.

I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.

If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.

This Oath? This Oath is admirable and noble. Of that there is no doubt. But, even so, there still remain these matters of life and death. These are questions that have no easy answers. These are questions that tear at one’s guts, rendering the questioner a Prometheus chained to a rock.

* * *