Transformative Anxiety

waiters in white sailor suits with blue-ribboned hats, the chef created a menu of transformed Portuguese

The dog races from door to door, barking at some threat, perhaps an intruder. Imaginary? Rural home invasion? Squirrels? Fortunately my anxiety is tempered by a fine depression and I feel no need to validate her concern.

don’t die daddy-daddy, don’t die daddy-daddy

date of birth unknown, biography not available, sitting, he looks out the window almost welcoming the occasional flash of pain, a companion sharing anecdotes, instant message chatter, never laughing, sometimes crying out loud, COL, damn! rolling on the floor crying out loud, the pain puts him in the moment and relieves the awful anxiety

the left heel, the ankle, the Achilles tendon… is that where it starts or is that where it ends. Blame mom, blame shoe store fluoroscopy, blame the marketplace… blame the forties and fifties with so much radiation dust in the air that an epidemic of thyroid cancer now stalks across the land, a scythe cutting down a whole generation, leaving the children to bury their parents, and was it ever thus?

famous ships, that on a day were brought to land at Troy by those
countless oars, what time ye led the Nereids’ dance, where the dolphin
music-loving rolled and gambolled round your dusky prows

Vowel transformations, from Chiron to Charon,
Deflective humor…
Centaur Interview

[tags]centaur questions, styx and stones[/tags]