Being dismissed, or: Death sentence

An American sentence: Being dismissed from the hospital, for some, is like a death sentence. What's an 'American Sentence'? Allen Ginsberg, inventor of the American Sentence, felt that the haiku didnโ€™t work as well in English. Ginsberg decided to remove the line structure of the haiku, maintaining the requirement of 17 syllables total. He felt… Continue reading Being dismissed, or: Death sentence

Online, or: Oncologist

A haibun A WordPress friend informed me last night that she has been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, which has spread. Her oncologist will give her a surgery date on Tuesday. Subsequent treatment (chemo, radiation, etc.) will be determined after the surgery. She is in a state of fear and disbelief, and as she wrote to… Continue reading Online, or: Oncologist

Update: relief and guilt

As some of you know, I have been working at three jobs (one full-time, two part-time) since I began my new, full-time job back in early May. One of my two part-time jobs is my work for my rabbi, whom I've been working for since 2010; the other part-time job is for my former full-time… Continue reading Update: relief and guilt

Our WordPress friend just had a stroke

Steven S. Wallace had a stroke Steven S. Wallace (a pseudonym) is a lovely person many of us have had the pleasure of meeting here in the blogosphere. He has been one of our regular W3 poetry prompt participants and has served as host for W3 on several ocassions, including last week. Last night, I… Continue reading Our WordPress friend just had a stroke

Chemotherapy, or: Blood transfusion

An American sentence: My aunt's white blood cell count is much too low for her to receive chemo. What's an 'American Sentence'? Allen Ginsberg, inventor of the American Sentence, felt that the haiku didnโ€™t work as well in English. Ginsberg decided to remove the line structure of the haiku, maintaining the requirement of 17 syllables… Continue reading Chemotherapy, or: Blood transfusion

Cancer consumes, or: Clear-eyed

An 'Amanda's Pinch' poem Her daughter, a doctor, stays always by her side. A collapsed lung has landed her at hospital. Please, let it be pneumonia, we pray, Though cancer consumes her body. Though cancer consumes her body, My aunt cherishes every single day. Her will's not been whittled, not even a little, Constantly fighting… Continue reading Cancer consumes, or: Clear-eyed