Tuesday, December 05, 2006

It finally Got to Me - Socked In By Flu - And kari edwards

Flu redux:

Of Flu and Flem

Woke up this morning in a wet blanket of fog. I thought it was just because I had overslept. But the fog wouldn't lift. It filled my nose and lungs, my head with air and popping sounds. I kept moving through it, high-stepping over it, trying to step out of it, cross through to the other side of wellness. But it wouldn't dress off, wouldn't wash off, wouldn't drink off, the sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea no substitute for the real thing. Much thought about what's real last night. I thought it was just that thought-fog keeping up with me. But no. It was real. It was penetrating and dulling my sinuses. Filling me up with something else besides my own petty self and this silly heart, something impenetrable and lasting for the moment it takes to fill me with this gritty crispness, a fragile skin of today, brittle and thin. Where I was merely melting, dissolving at the mouth and eyes and breath, today I'm dry, a sec sac of air, a full bladder of hot numbness in the brain.

I call in sick right before class. As the flu creeps in with little rat's feet.

posted by Lorna Dee Cervantes Thursday, October 19 at 11:01 AM

And saddened by the news of kari edwards death while I was away - more on that soon. I was in the middle of thinking through a blog post in answer to a friend's sudden question out of the azure: "What do you think happens to you after you die?" when I returned from Amherst to the news on Eileen's blog. Meanwhile, go to Ron Silliman for more news and words, rendered as usual in his impeccable Silliman way; I'm too sick to feel or read or write anything but to get this brittle cocoon off my head. My thoughts are with kari and those of you shocked and stunned and saddened by kari's sudden passing of heart failure at age 52, my age. I was so gladdened to see kari's triumph (finally!) and was looking forward to be able to attend a reading and experience kari at the height of poetic power, to experience a rare coming into BEing as poet in conjunction with reader/listener. It just never worked out in the recent past; and now, past. And the final hanging blog, intensely empty but somehow so comforting a trace, a name and naming and the vibrancy of the act of language as leap of faith. RIP


Blogger Ron said...

Hope you feel better soon

5/12/06 14:21  

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