Category: poems

I say I’m going to jump.

What does this mean?

Will I jump for joy?

Highly unlikely,

But perhaps I will.

In a brief moment of happiness

Probably whippet-related.

Will I jump to a conclusion?

I try not to do so,

Being of a rational turn of mind,

Or so I like to tell myself (but don’t we all?)

Will I jump off the edge?

Now this is more plausible,

Given the current state of the world

And my dystopian worldview.

I’m jumping now.

The buildings are tall indeed.

I’m not very good at humaning right now.

I bristle at all who dare to approach.

I run from the light to seek out the shadows.

I disdain the melodic in favor of drone.

I find sustained contact to be painful.

I feel wrong for feeling like I do.

I feel it none the less.

Dear Sirs:

I am writing to you concerning Resolution 2020-17, the Resolution In Support of Washington County Returning To Work, to urge you to AMEND this Resolution. In the Resolution as it now stands, there is ONLY a mention of the need to re-open businesses and other institutions and NO mention of the health constraints that should be followed, if they choose to do so. I’m sure you have all kept up with the latest recommendations from the CDC and our own State health department’s guidelines on how to SAFELY go about re-opening the town and wish to see these followed. And the thought that Abingdon and surrounding Washington County are tourist destinations with the summer approaching must factor into your calculations…and fears, if you have them. (I must say that I have some trepidations right now about visitors. Yes, a source of income. But potentially also a vector.) I am not asking you to abandon the Resolution entirely, but please revise it to urge all who re-open to do so in a responsible and medically safe manner. We need businesses, churches, and other places, yes. But unless we feel (and ARE) safe while patronizing them, then these same places will not flourish, and more importantly, we the inhabitants are at risk.

Thank you.

Kel BasAvraham

I don’t want to see you. Or you. Or you. Or you.

Not in person. Or via Zoom, Skype, Google Meet.

I am staying away from ALL,

Inside with suitably stygian Finnish dramas on Netflix

Or re-reading The Plague by Camus,

While listening to Kraftwerk drone in glorious techno.

I might accept a phone call or answer a text,

Depending on the time of day and my mood.

But right now I’m in isolation mode,

Dancing alone.

Abingdon Abraham Lincoln Alabama alt-right Appalachia atheist autumn breathe Buddhism buddhist change Christian Christianity Civil War compassion connection death depression Donald Trump gratitude grief Hillary Clinton home illusion immigration impermanence kindness LGBTQ love meditation memories mental health mountains mourning path poem poetry pouncepunk art challenge practice suicide tea tears Texas Trump wisdom

Abingdon Abraham Lincoln Alabama alt-right Appalachia atheist autumn breathe Buddhism buddhist change Christian Christianity Civil War compassion connection death depression Donald Trump gratitude grief Hillary Clinton home illusion immigration impermanence kindness LGBTQ love meditation memories mental health mountains mourning path poem poetry pouncepunk art challenge practice suicide tea tears Texas Trump wisdom

Abingdon Abraham Lincoln Alabama alt-right Appalachia atheist autumn breathe Buddhism buddhist change Christian Christianity Civil War compassion connection death depression Donald Trump gratitude grief Hillary Clinton home illusion immigration impermanence kindness LGBTQ love meditation memories mental health mountains mourning path poem poetry pouncepunk art challenge practice suicide tea tears Texas Trump wisdom

Abingdon Abraham Lincoln Alabama alt-right Appalachia atheist autumn breathe Buddhism buddhist change Christian Christianity Civil War compassion connection death depression Donald Trump gratitude grief Hillary Clinton home illusion immigration impermanence kindness LGBTQ love meditation memories mental health mountains mourning path poem poetry pouncepunk art challenge practice suicide tea tears Texas Trump wisdom

Can I hide behind my mask?

Or does it make me more conspicuous in the streets, the stores, the transit?

Certainly the graphics do stand out.

When paired with my black hoodie and Docs,

I look like a dark character from some illustrated novel.

Which is exactly the effect I aim for:

A disaffected dystopian wanderer.

Not Mad Max. Just weary and wary.

There’s a wonderful Hans Christian Anderson quote: “Where words fail, music speaks.” I think of that often these days. Music has always been a lifeline to me during times of trouble. (Right now I’ve Aoife O’Donovan playing, doing her wonderfully poignant cover of Springsteen’s album, Nebraska.) I grew up in a household that revolved around music and books and  good food, so these things became my things also. When you are an introvert kid who doesn’t play well with others, these are your escape. And when you grow up into an equally awkward adult who still doesn’t quite get how to human, these became even more essential.

And now, as my usual springtime depression settles in on top of COVID-19 problems, quarantine difficulties, and my other myriad physical health issues, MUSIC is speaking quite eloquently indeed. I would have lost it (what ever “it” is) multiple times over, had it not been for: Eminem; Dan Tepfer; X.T.X.; Gangstagrass; Aoife O’Donovan; Kraftwerk; Jason Isbell; Street Academics; Disturbed; Against Me; Bad Bunny; and so many others. The site of Bandcamp  needs its own mention. Check it out, if you want to get educated and support great music and musicians!

DJT has called us (but not him, bone spurs, you know) “warriors” in the fight to reopen the country, in hopes that this will ease the death toll and other hardships that are ensuing. The reckoning is upon him and his admin but falls upon the rest of the country to pay, as he denies, denies, denies responsibility for ANY of this.

Dear Mary:

The days grow longer, and time weighs heavily on me. I’ve read many books from the e-library and watched every show available on all three major streaming services. I might have to resort to Tiktok videos. I’ve baked loaves of banana bread, peanut butter bread with chocolate chips, and am STILL losing weight. Probably from the anxiety-pacing. (I’m keeping my steps up that way. Ha.) I trust the bread tastes okay but don’t know, as I haven’t regained my ability to taste or smell yet. My doc assures me it will return (but doesn’t really know this). Even Miss P, my beloved companion, is showing quarantine-related weirdness. She has become the very definition of “high maintenance” in regards to her food and will not eat from her bowl unless I’ve washed it and scooped the food straight out of the bin WITH the bowl. (I take some small comfort  in that others have reported that THEIR animal companions are also displaying their own oddities during this time.) I just read this morning that we are being directed in the line of duty to go back out into the world. My uniform is ready: gloves, masks, and of course, hand sanitizer. I just hope that those I will  be marching with have been suitably equipped. But of course they have! This is the U.S. of A!

Missing you always,

Kel

I saw my internist yesterday.  After an exhaustive interview with TWO docs, more labs, I now have  a confirmed positive diagnosis of COVID-19. I asked the doc who accompanied her, “What I REALLY wanna know here, doc….where should I inject the bleach and what sorta UV device works the best to cure this?”  He looked at me like I had lost my mind and replied, “Please do not do not try anything like either of those two things, and where did you hear about them?” My doc cracked up and said that I had heard it from THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, and it was a totally sarcastic comment from me. He looked utterly appalled. I laughed and told him that they were lucky I wasn’t asking them for hydroxychloroquine, as I had already had a z-pack! He looked confused (again). (Dude must be too busy to keep up  with our Dr. Cheeto,  more power to him.)  Then my doc held up her foot and said, “Hey, we’re shoe mates!” Yep, we were wearing the same shoes! By this time, other doc was about ready to lose patience with the both of us…..I love my internist!

So how am I FEELING? Idk. Physically this is difficult, of course. There’s all the stuff that lead to this. The fever that just keeps recurring; the headaches that do the same.  The night sweats that drench the bed.The shortness of breath that make it harder to do simple things like take walks and deep breaths. The loss of my ability to smell and taste is disconcerting and leading to some weight loss.  The pervasive malaise and fatigue are debilitating and profound.

And then there psychological things. I don’t know whether they are side effects of COVID-19 or by-products of quarantine or just my usual depression.  NO-ONE does. (My doc answered more questions than not with the answer “You will be telling me,” which is not what I wanted to hear.) But, yeah, I have some anxiety regarding this. Over that no-one knows what the long-term ramifications of it are. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to kill me, short-term. I’ve dodged THAT particular bullet, though for a bit it seemed sorta iffy.  But I’ve thought about it and and am trying to put that anxiety away with all my OTHER health-related anxiety. (When you are a micro-preemie, health anxiety is like your native land, right? You OWN it. You are so used to hospitals, docs, and invasive healthcare that by now pandemics are sorta…almost prepared for.)  The diagnosis DID take some burden off, in a way. I was beginning to think I was crazy. I kept calling my doc up with all these things….weird things. So at least THAT’s resolved. Now I’m back to regularly scheduled depression and anxiety…..sorta kinda.

What I REALLY don’t like and what almost ENRAGES me is this POLITICAL shit. Like, I haven’t told my landlord about my diagnosis. B/c of his political beliefs. He would belittle it, possibly shame me, and make me feel even worse. And people who don’t wear masks in public like at grocery stores and other places? Look, you wanna flaunt your politics, fine. But find a way to do so that doesn’t endanger the health of everyone else. Viruses don’t give a flying F about your party line, k? They’ll cross that with impunity. And if you do choose your precious individual liberties to endanger yourself (and others) and fall ill b/c of it? You might want to consider whether you also want to choose to burden the health care system with CARING FOR YOU…..

Rant over.

After getting the test results (negative) yet continuing to struggle with WHAT respiratory infection, I am feeling understandable heightened anxiety. I was tested on March 20th. Last week I was (finally!) contacted by the outfit that tested me THREE TIMES on the same day to ensure I had gotten my test results. By the third call, I was a little annoyed. My physician would like to see me retested and have some other labs done but also doesn’t want me to have to go back to the E.R. unless I get so ill I need to be seen. It’s a dilemma. So she calls me frequently, as does my psych doc. (I’ve actually seen him by telemedicine. Pretty cool.)  BUT.

I must admit that this all is having an effect. My coping mechanisms are fairly decent. I’m a lifelong introvert who has also had the benefit of a lot of therapy. So I’m perhaps better equipped than many. I am solitary by nature. I normally spend the bulk of my time alone. So I’m not doing much that is out of the ordinary. I’m reading (6 books ahead on my 200 book challenge!); streaming some stuff; listening to music (Gary Numan featured on my playlist this morning); studying (aprendo Espanol; catching up on some Greek philosophy; listening to dharma talks); meditating; taking walks with my whippet; writing (I’m a poet and occasional LTE writer.); engaging in such social activism as I can.

My dreams, though, have become Mad Max territory in the extreme. Post- apocalyptic scenarios indeed. My poems reflect this, though I try to balance this by writing also about the moments of peace I’ve experienced. Rarely does a dream (or poem) find a middle middle ground these days. Rarely do I. During the day, I’m moving through my life….listening to Gary Numan singing, “We Are So Fragile.”  I’ll occasionally stop and feel almost the urge to cry. Instead, I turn off the music and strike my singing bowl and breathe. Then I go back to life….cleaning, reading, whatever I was doing.

 

. When I had first read of Ballad furloughing 1300 workers in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, I thought, “Here we go, another horrid Ballad tale….” But the story is more complex. Yes, Ballad IS letting 1300 workers go right now but will continue to pay their health care costs. They will assist those (in TN, it was unclear whether this also applied to those furloughed in VA) who applied for unemployment with the process. AND-this is the part that caught my attention-the CEO of Ballad is taking a 100% pay cut for 60 days; the Senior Vice President and above will take a 20% reduction for the same time period, and the Assistant Vice Presidents will be taking a 10% pay cut during this time. HOWEVER, Ballad is also apparently asking its physicians and advanced practice providers to take a 20% pay cut for this duration. These are direct service providers during the midst of a healthcare crisis. Granted, they might not be called upon as much as E.R. physicians at this moment. But given the difficulty of keeping doctors AT ALL here in SWVA, do you think this a wise move? I would suggest not. Appalachia needs its healthcare professionals to have reasons to stay, and I suspect that Ballad’s financial struggles are just going to deepen. What cuts are made now are likely just the beginning. Ballad will be in this whatever comes next along with the rest of us.