At the eighth floor

moving up street escalators

in the spacious hall.

Not much has changed

for the past three years

since I have been for an op

of the left eye’s cataract.

All’s well

just for a small incision

with a laser beam

to free the lens from

a grown-in pocket of skin.


Sweet B

At times a horrid company

still means well

amidst her own pain to her

exposed bone

covered by only skin.

She’s braving the atmospheric

pressure changes

of an early autumn chill.


My thoughts go back to Anna:

Anna disintegrating

still loving me

breaking apart physically

but mentally forever part

of my poetry.





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