INTO THE THROAT OF GOD

A woman I loved and love is fighting a disease that can take her life: aplastic anemia.

Aplastic anemia is sonuvabitch low-life medical reality wherein the bone marrow conducts something of a wildcat walkout and decides to reduce the number of blood platelets it is designed to produce. The woman I am referring to was my wife. And while she may be an ex-wife on paper, she is my wife insofar as my heart is concerned. In other words, while the marriage may not have worked for us, she is still family. She always will be.

When she wrote and told me what she is dealing with I collapsed into tears and anguish, a churning emotional condition that soon turned into rage at this hideous reality she is unjustly having to deal with. The anger ran so deep I wanted to drive my hands deep into the throat of God and say, You put us here, the least you could do is explain why you do this to some of us. Fuck blind faith in you. Explain yourself.

Platelets are important players for all of us. They are disc-shaped elements in the blood that help with blood clotting. While they are often thought of as blood cells, they are actually fragments of bone marrow cells called megakaryocytes.

There are some treatments, including a bone-marrow transplant. I have already written her and told her that if by chance my marrow is a match, it is hers for the taking. Moreover, wherever this journey she is on takes her, I told her I will be there for her, whether by e-mail, phone or in person.

I can tell you this woman is one of the most extraordinary people I have ever known. She has, without question, one of the most creative minds I’ve ever known and she is deeply compassionate to her fellow human beings.

She also has a sense of humor (and laugh) surpassed by no one I know. I’ll give you an example. I once asked her if she could find a way of letting me when we were in those four of five days a month when she and perfection were synonyms and I was a complete and utter ass and wholly incapable of getting anything right much less understanding anything. She said she would think of something. One evening a week or two later I was in bed reading when she came into the room with a huge steak knife in hand and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Oh,” she said, “You’re still awake, I’ll be back,” and away she went.

Like I said, great sense of humor, which would make sense because she is a great person. And a willpower of solid steel. If you asked me to bet on her or the aplastic anemia; my money is on her – big time.
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IN THE BONES OF YOUR SOUL

What do you want



To know about me





I can see your



Breath pulsing at me





I can feel you here



In this space





In my room I ask



What do you



Really want





Do you really want



Me to talk to you





Holding nothing back





Say all that has churned



And spiraled in me





Sometimes at a pace





So chaotic I thought



I would fall from existence





Do you really want to know





In and out



You are so beautiful



You buckle my knees



In grateful glory





There is as you may know



A little boy inside me





I suppose it is safe



Maybe not to say there is



A little girl inside you





Across the distance



I say this to you





I can feel you



Your heart beat





I can feel the soft



Rhythmic cadence



Of your voice





The sculpted and bold



Creativity of your thoughts





Your feelings you



Breathe for love





Where in the bones



Of your soul



You know you are safe





Being you





You are with me



Promise





My words sail



On the mighty back



Of gentleness to you





Pledging my always open heart

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QUICK!

Dreams pass me quickly

Sounds and colors swirling

Do you hear me?

Curling through springtime morns

Smooth tasting buttermilk breasts

Do you hear me?

Hair like raven jewels

Eyes laced with truth unfolding

Do you hear me?

Mornings bring hummingbirds

Smokey voices whisper smiles

Do you hear me?

Kiss me — quick!
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BORDERS

In moments quietly

Tender in believing

Truth may prevail

My trembling hope

You are there

Quietly in tune

Thinking feeling knowing

I love you

Silently hoping beyond

My weary borders

Are you there?

circa 1981, for Jennifer Cristina Humbert
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DANCING WITH MIRACLES

I’m in the sweet silence of falling snow

Where are the words to tell you

I’m in the sweet silence of falling snow

Breathing in crisp clean polished air

I’m in the sweet silence of falling snow

Dancing with miracles

I’m in the sweet silence of falling snow

Where are the words to tell you
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