Poet at The Cottage... And other happenings...

My brother, John, and my friend, Diane brought David Weiss, a poet from New York to do a reading at my father's cottage. First John must get the gas turned on to ensure for a cozy and inviting atmosphere. It has been chilly in the evenings. He also placed a variety of camellias around the the room and two cheery lamps to light the poet's page and to cast lovely shadows on the floors and walls. Diane brought tiny cups and brewed mint tea on John's camp stove.

I hadn't been sure of going due to various crisis of body and mind. In addition to the nerve pain in my leg, I've come close to losing Music Dog again...twice. And then there were anxiety attacks like nothing I have ever experienced. Unstoppable... No amount of attentive breathing, nibbling on crackers, sipping on tea would stop the monstrous symptoms. Within three days I was taken by a family member to the emergency room twice. Both times the drug, Atavan, was injected into my veins through an IV. Finally, the second doctor gave me a prescription for Atavan so I can moderate the dosage and take it at the first indication. I truly believe that this is a temporary situation brought on partly by worry over Music and my own pain, and partly due to one of the drugs I was given for the sciatica. It has been rough, and I have been mostly absent from Blip. Finally, yesterday, I received the debit card, and I have pledged. It feels much better being here now that I have. 

As for the poetry reading at my father's cottage...
I did cross the road to hear the poet, David, read,
but I came away with little memory of his words.
What stayed with me was the rhythm of his voice,
What swims still in my body is the dance of his right hand
as it caught the lamplight.