She remembers me
She remembers me
From long ago
A stranger, yet a friend
She says she was there
The day the war ended.
I don’t remember her. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth
connecting the dots of my life
Tag: Love
November 18, 2014
November 17, 2014
My Mother, My Teacher | Part 1 of 2
I’m still thinking about my confused and confusing relationships with men. This story is about my Mother and me. It’s also about at least some of my troubling relationships with men. Read the rest of this entry »
November 7, 2014
A Matter of Trust | Dear Diane
Houston Journal, 19 June 1998: Every time I come Diane is a little less alive in her bodily functions. This time feels very heavy—the hospital bed feels like the beginning of the end. On the TV today they were talking about an ALS cure by 2000. I don’t think Diane will make it that long. Read the rest of this entry »
August 15, 2014
Why did I come? | Dear Diane, . . .
Diane’s life with ALS flew by way too fast. My Houston journals remind me just how difficult it was to live within each moment. Sometimes it seems I was stuck, holding my breath, waiting for Diane to die.
More often, though, I was sorting out what I could/could not reasonably do during my visits to Houston almost four times a year. Here are a few things I struggled with during my November 1997 visit. Read the rest of this entry »
April 30, 2014
to haiku or not
to haiku or not
haiku my burning question
this Nay Poe Wry Moe
* * * * *
Alas!
I must await
another Nay Poe Wry Moe*
one year hence to resolve
my burning dilemma. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 