from My Vicipedia Komst Borscht (derived from my mum’s recipe) Stock made with 1 good chicken (fryers suck for this), fresh, free range is best 2 sticks celery ½ – 1 onion roughly chopped 1 carrot, 2 if you like the soup a little sweeter pepper corns 2 bay leaves Boil, reduce to low boil
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I DREAM OF ANNE CARSON
SCENE ONE! (I can smear the snickering already. Make that hear. I will check each line by line, or not. As dementia sinks in, I am dismayed how much how quickly of brains “braininess” is ripped out. ) I signed up for an academic.edu class, The time It was to begin was written as 1:00
... read more.(JAPANESE) DEATH POEMS
Writing Jisei, is a common practise, or was I know nothing, or less. But is known as Death Poems, the last poems a haiku or most kinds of Zen poets, write.I found as book called Japanese Death Poems at Kelowna’s own Mosaic bookstore, and find much of interest. Here is one especially apt for ALWAYS
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HOW WE DIE
MY PSYCH Says: Imagine a positive outcome!” HOW WE DIE We all want to know HOW when somebody we know, died. – anonymous 1. Did he get his comeuppance a bullet back of the head hands tied/to an overdose. on a backroad to death valley Live or die make the difference clear vote your
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WAVES
THE SCALE OF MY MISFORTUNE Like everything about me the scale of my misfortune frightens those about me as my mother said though tell me Tell me something anything before I’m dead. Don’t make me plague your dreams, like last night wanting you to drive us home dad asking where you hid his flat cap
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RENOVATIONS
I had a vivid dream. I was invited to go to the consecration of the new Glenlea Mennonite church. The place was packed and I had just been dropped off with a ride on call later in the afternoon, if they were so kind to offer lunch. They weren’t nor was there even a church
... read more.THE SCALE OF MY MISFORTUNE
ANGELS ON MY SHOULDER the scale of my misfortune frightens those about me as my mother said though tell me Tell me something anything before I’m dead. Don’t make me plague your dreams, like last night wanting you to drive us home dad asking where you hid his flat cap bullying you down Main Street
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CAUGHT SPEEDING
SHIFT CHANGE — He was running away he said, when we pulled him over. I asked him from what, thinking maybe there had been a bar fight after closing, though he didn’t look beat up. He had been going over 120 in an 80-kilometer zone. — I wet the bed he replied. — What? —
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ENNS STOMP
Inspiration wracks cough in cough let me out! Spit in the tissue Show is over, top sheet under my desk, over foot, where we draw the line with a biro pen measures the progress of another mandolin shaped swelling hides under my linen sheet settles down dementia yanks my chin wags what a drag
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