pain room blogish


KOMST BORSCHT

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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Also posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, Boundary Creek, Family Matters, Food, My Daily Fog, My Life in Pieces, Preachers' Kids, Shit My Mother Said, Slouching, Susann with 2nns, The 49th Parallel | Leave a comment

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

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Also posted in Abject Alphabet (Fits and starts), ARCHIVES, Blog, Dreams, My Daily Fog, My Life in Pieces, Namedfropping, Poems, Quotations, Seeing, Shit My Mother Said, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

(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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Also posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, Involuntary Tongue, Jimmy Bang, My Daily Fog, Pain Room, Poems, Preachers' Kids, Quotations, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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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Also posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, Jimmy Bang, My Daily Fog, Pain Room, Poems, Preachers' Kids, Preachers' Kids, Quotations, Seeing, Slouching, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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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Also posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, My Daily Fog, Poems, Slouching, What Men Do | Leave a comment

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

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Also posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, Boundary Creek, Dreams, Family Matters, Involuntary Tongue, Jimmy Bang, MANIFESTOS, My Daily Fog, Pain Room, Preachers' Kids, Preachers' Kids, Uncategorized, What Men Do Blogish | Leave a comment

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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Also posted in ARCHIVES, Blog, Health, My Daily Fog, My Life in Pieces, Pain Room, Poems, Preachers' Kids, Preachers' Kids, Shit My Mother Said, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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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Also posted in Blog, Cars, Health, My Daily Fog, My Life in Pieces, Pain Room, Preachers' Kids, Preachers' Kids, Slouching, What Men Do, What Men Do Blogish | Leave a comment

Apple Tree

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Also posted in Blog, Preachers' Kids, Slouching | Leave a comment

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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Also posted in Blog, Slouching, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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