Monday, April 23, 2007





Dearest Faker


Right now I'm looking at your card,
come flecked with several different inks.
Mail always ends up slightly marred;
the postal system's full of kinks.


And, today, I lightly snapped
the mediocre notion
that everything's important,
once it's blown across the ocean.



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About Me

I came to Minneapolis from southern California this May to help my 88-year-old mother care for my 86-year-old father. He fell last November, and then declined cognitively for a month as his bones healed at a rehab facility under quarantine. He hasn't undeclined. Before retiring in the 1990s, he was a theater critic, & still seems to have some of his self-confidence and wit alongside vascular dementia, Parkinsonisms, incontinence and real trouble walking. Given his otherwise-ok health, he might still have some tolerable years ahead, though with new parameters. My mom's a novelist. She seems made of iron.