I Want A Horse

This crummy year delivers yet another unwanted parcel of bad news; here goes: a friend, a dear friend has serious, really bad, much-worse-than-expected cancer.

I thought of 2009 as a great winnowing, the only constant, Time, slowly, gravely, shaking the fabric of the world like a rug, shaking, shaking. And I want to run from the winnowing and jump on a great whinneying steed and ride away from the Sick Heart...

Oh rose, thou art sick!

The invisible worm

That flies in the night

In the howling storm

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy,

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.