Work as hard as you can for as long as you can Then you’re ill can’t work can’t walk can’t bear talk or remember how no pain felt can count on the hand you can’t lift your friends and family can’t work or provide can’t afford pride or holidays you manage Christmas, on plastic can’t […]
generate stay slow seal here by Sean Medium Belgium
I lie on the couch, but you cannot see my velocity. I have a tangential vectoring sense that pain is coiled mitochondrial speed, that while I am prone I am riding the rails deep into the future and the past at once, as if pain exposes ruptures in the time/space continuum and pulls me into […]
An afternoon spent, or was it an evening, or three, in a wheel clamp’s tender clasp. My dues for modernist mutation paid out in full: ribs, calves, hands, sections of skull, wrenching, arching, hardening. A homecoming of sorts, a holding; mattress won’t grumble, neither will I – if only we knew if we’re hot or […]
Lie in the car, stiff as a bell’s tongue, and just as mute. Pain in aspiration stage – still hoping I’ll hurl myself against walls, eager to chime. After a blurry episode give looking another go. Burgess Park is not itself right now: tiny, lifeless, the green of grass and foliage moulded in the same […]
In Lithuanian, runoti means both “to cut (with a knife)” and “to speak”. Hail: Hagalaz Pain, loss, suffering, hardship, sickness, crisis. Spirit-breaker Faith-Taker Misery-Maker Joy-Stealer Dream-Breaker Shadow-Hound. Thought-Waker Friend-Fooler […]
Today I was issued with hand splints. Carapaced; oddly reassuring, oddly restricting; Even in their disposition. I am that crab. Their bindings have an onomatopoeia: irascible. by Ruth Victoria Chalkley Additional poems hosted on other websites: Tanzkarte NHS; Carrier Pigeon for Science U.K.
I’m poeming this poem from a forest-boreal transition zone anticipating intense public reaction to my poem against the bony mets that XXXX up my posture & infiltrate our nat’l backbone its prostate biopsy analogy lost/inapparent in the sagamore gloam this spine unresponsive to the pre-patent analog that is my poem by Maureen Miller doctorwritermaureenmiller.tumblr.com [This […]