October 23rd

A portent of Fall, the black crow stirs
To remind us all - approacheth October!
His hoarse, avian call brings about chills
The temperate drink and drunks get sober

Lately, I awaken in bed at night
Unable to move, contracted with fright
I can’t release my poor chest for a breath
My sheets are bunched up and fist-twisted tight

What torments me so with its taunting?
It has hold of me, won’t stop its haunting-
An insistent task I cannot forget
The duration of which is quite daunting

It chases me all through my dreams
With horns and a pitchfork, extreme
I toss and I force myself to awake
With a gasp, I choke back my . . .

Well, you know.

Weak

Over two grueling months, I lost the notorious 12 pounds I had gained by overeating from April through July.

Now I am weak. So weak.

I have less than a month to regain six of the nine miles I lost during my restricted diet, plus add four and one-tenth.

I want to do this without a repeat of my previous weight gain.

Give me your prayers.

Take me there.

Slouching

Months ago, when I began this journey, it was with reluctance, trepidation, even fear. The bright image I held in my mind, however, was N'Orleans, reclining on the coast like a drunken woman, her skin moistened with sweat, her laughter roughened by smoke and late nights, calling to me in a smiling, musky voice, "C'mon, girl. Do this thing you gotta do and then we can do a little boogie together."

As I have dragged myself, slouching toward N'Orleans, I never dreamed that the journey I had begun was so great that it would not, could not, reach a successful climax simply by my puny effort. Now, in the midst of my miniscule labor, I see the great city herself, slouching toward me.

C'mon, girl. Do this thing you gotta do. And then we can boogie.