Inaugural Issue of Ailment – Chronicles of Illness Narratives

During these months of such uncertainty, creative expression is a beautiful release. It is an honor to have my poetry and art included in this gorgeous, thoughtful, inaugural issue of Ailment – Chronicles of Illness Narratives.(clicking here or on image also will take you to Ailment’s First Issue)
I hope you, your loved ones, and all people you know are managing the days and staying safe❤️

I sketched the three drawings that accompany my poems when visiting with my beautiful mother at the nursing home. These last few weeks have been difficult not visiting with her, but days when she manages to answer the phone we get to chat a little. The nursing home allows families to drop items off. I go once a week and drop off crullers, comics, and family photos with love notes. My mother is my touchstone. Since suffering her massive stroke, over two years now, she still never complains. She manages small smiles. I selfishly miss that glorious smile of hers, the one I so often brag about-her god-given movie star grin.❤️xo

thank you

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she likes curves as much as the next guy

she likes curves as much as the next guy
your supple lips create a secret shadow
she dreams of hiding in
those amazing shoulders of yours
burst into perfect half-moons
she adores the curve of your back
how your lats run down into a sinewy v
on your well-formed biceps
she imagines suns rising and setting
on those glutes
ah, yes those magnificent rounded caps
leading to the sweeping arcs of your sculpted tendons
she visualizes your body thrusting into forward motion
with all those powerful curves
yes, my friends
the ladies like curves too

Ra

Ra

 

this fellow sketched last year at a wrestling match

oatmeal domination

somewhere in the universe
beastly animatronic appendages
dragging empty buckets the size of blue whales
scoop up wild oats more numerous than grains of sand
they dump these omnipotent hauls 
into two monumental receptacles
the first –
is a sweet, crunchy place decorated in swirly G’s
where smells of cinnamon and dehydrated fruits abound

the second – mind you,
casts a far more intimidating shadow
it is a dark, mysterious warehouse
where rancid pigment and gooey binder can be sniffed for miles
it is deep within the bowels of this cloaked place
that all institutional paint is manufactured
and the nefarious beings behind this demon depository 
have but one scheme in mind
oatmeal domination

these ill-natured possessors will not rest
until the interior of every hospital, recovery outpost and learning facility
has been impossibly plastered in their colorless aberration
depressing, hideous, stomach-churning
oatmeal paint
Karole in St Luketen-minute sketch while my mother-in-law slept in hospital bed yesterday
she survived cancer number 4 – a tumor was removed from her bladder, all seems well
she is home now happy, drinking lots of water and enjoying her colorful walls filled with beautiful things
those oatmeal-colored hospital walls are a thing of the past
but her care – doctors, nurses and all involved – was fantastic – wonderful people

falling

spectacular glow against the robust purple grey sky
leaves spiraling in wind directing thin branches to bow
unreal color drenching the landscape
but what am I seeing
not glorious
scratched pencil lines and spinning circles
into ovals with broad maws and wild fur
sharp orbs and blocky nostrils
I’m hearing too many voices
the wind is a sailing eraser
the wall

Art Wall 1Art Wall 2Art Wall 3Art Wall 5Art Wall 6Art Wall 7Art Wall 8Art Wall 4RHinopaper falling like leaves
when
almost home I look up through a tree
these
these are the falling papers
this is the wind
this is what I need to remember
this is why
I have eyes
autumnsketches done for students to demo different animals…
picture taken when I returned home from subbing
while standing in my driveway looking up