Update on wombat-socho:

Following application of several airstrike grade medications, Dad's doing a lot better. I expect to see a daylog from him soonish: in lieu of that, since he's on a Southwest Airlines flight back home, or otherwise on his way through security kabuki at MSP, you get to hear from my smiling face.

Turns out staph and strep colonized Dad's leg. The VA folks hooked him up with some new processed honey stuff for the wounds in his legs, and gave him some OxyContin for the pain. Somewhere in there, the chaplain and possibly some monks and nuns visited. I'm told there was no dancing bear. I am told, however, that the processed honey is apparently some kind of new wonder drug capable of reducing wound scars and infections to something exceedingly minimal.

I guess my garden's going to have a lot of honeybee attracting plants in it this summer...

Click, click
The heels of ruby roots kiss
twice, though the adage rings true
Mother Earth sits in her kitchen, wears an apron,
stirring wanderlust with spoons

Turn me a deer
Fill me aloft
Set me to running
Friend me a forest and
Paint me true.

Incantations, rust
Feet calloused to hooves
Savaged and unsalvageable
a permanent shift and
Brand new shoes.

She stamped me clean; silent
Oaths climbing caves (the wettest of mouths). Moths
Beaten against glass eyes,
So attracted to the light.

Mama says, you're going to die
Father says don't come back
But I think if you live like a wound,
Split wide open,
The only thing written in stone
Is an epitaph.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.