Had quite the discussion about concrete molds with a young man who was carting about this garden clown in the back of his pick up. He was quite enthused about this one, given to him by a client whose yard he had cleared. He likes it peering out the rear in greetings. It would be helpful to find a purveyor of concrete molds or a do it yourself shop that would help him realize his own unique installation. Where do we find custom crafted concrete in the Baltimore area? Sent by Molly
Bandages litter the sidewalk
torn off by patients
leaving the clinics and offices
at the hospital.
For blocks,
various configurations of
gauze and tapes.
Every few feet
Between bloodied puddles after the rain,
escapees leave traces
thrown down in defiance.
This morning I went to the hospital to pick up a prescription and drop off a doctor's order for a CT scan, to schedule it. After the oncologist's suite to pick it up, and dropping the RX at the hospital pharmacy(good luck trying to fill it anywhere else!), I went down a floor to radiology, where the receptionist sent me to another reception area where they gave me contrast mixture to take before the scheduled appointment with an order to have my blood drawn for testing. Back upstairs to the lab, where the chief vampire sent me over to registration. I went to the information desk where I was directed to one of three semi-walled off clerks. This lady put my ID and insurance card through the scanner, barcoded me with a plastic bracelet, and sent me back to the blood collectors. After they took my papers and donation, I returned to the pharmacy where they, too, inspected my ID. I got my scrip filled and as I went out I asked yet another desk clerk to cut off my bracelet so I could escape. Chuckling, he did me the favor and I did indeed flee towards the bus stop, wherein lies another tale...
Somewhere along Stoney Run, a doll lost her shoe. Someone else found it and helpfully hung it on a branch of a larger stick, then propped that against a tree.
I made these large coil tubes in my early days at art school. When I later lived in an old house with heating grates in the floor, I put them individually on each grate. I had finally figured out how to keep a cat from lying on the grates, sucking all the heat from the room! My older daughter, who was perhaps 6 or 7 at the time, asked me what they were while while warming her hands over the diverted blast from the furnace at the largest one. "It's a portal to Hell", I told her. Last week she moved to her father's (my ex) for easy access.
We're having a heat wave, a tropical heat wave...no, sorry Irving Berlin. Just another 95 degree June day in Baltimore! And instead of just Ella or Marylin, we have Ultra Nate!
I have stage four lung cancer and with treatments, I have been keeping it at bay for two and a half years. It bubbled into my brain, but that part is gone now. This is the third time I have had cancer, starting at aged 23. That sounds so dramatic, doesn't it? Anyway, I often forget that I'm sick until I get a bad oyster or when the allergies kick up. I have reconciled with my mortality long ago, but. I feel depressed lately. Maybe it's the present administration's health plan that proposes I pay 150k a year for coverage. Wouldn't you feel bad too?
Shreds of poetry drift around my thoughts on this rainy day. One poet in particular occupies my attention, Ogden Nash. With wit and brevity, he has a permanent place in my diminishing memories.