i did a funny thing a cple days back--
gave a copy of 'was chicken trax' to Allergist Doc.
some of you may have read 'was chicken', wld recall this hero guy in the end of my story, Allergist Doc :
who in a minute flat lifted the stone round earth Atlas holds on the South end of Cleveland Museum of Art's polluted lagoon, and threw it into Euclid Ave.'s heavy traffic, with the women turning day into night watching the while, stoic and unmoved. all of Northeast Ohio flitted a snaps for Allergist Doc.(pg 104).
the dude gave me much relief, this is true. however thursday last, before tres versing fest i was on about the tenth day of a bull migraine. that good doc managed to eradicate all but menstrual migraines from my diet, a rare and hard to treat variety of vascular headache which can last several days(or apparently, two weeks). i went to the ER which seemed extreme, poetry's eve, where they gave me fluids, opiates and something for the nausea. in fact i learned it is quite common for migraine sufferers to seek emergency care. i left with a track mark. and eight hrs later the pain returned, as ever. the weekend of poetry was awesome, and poetry herself pulled me thru, along with various snake oils i use to stave the pain.
sunday morning found me in an impromptu visit with Barbara, George Wallace and Brian to Daniel's grave at Lakeview. a very busy day, Mother's, to visit a grave! i hadn't any meds with me or even water to drink at the sunday readings, and by the time of the open finale i cld barely sit still, so i exited to another poet's well won applause. i dont know what wulda been worse, explaining why i took off, or taking off wordless as i did.
anyway, i had an appt with Allergy Doc and explained i'd gone to the ER since i cldnt have pain during a weekend of poetry i'd planned for months. he told me he was a bit of a poet! had for yrs been a member of some Amrcn doc's poetry association. we forgot we were in an expensive room in a hurry, as we shot names of great writers we liked before the good man sent me on my way with some instructions and hope. i was out the door when i realized i had copies of 'was chicken trax' in my purse, so i sent Brian back in with a copy.
i still have the headache.
i have before gone as many as 15 weeks with a headache. poetry has got me thru once more, and i am not yet totally insane.
one thing i wrote in 'chicken trax' Allergist Doc might not like is my little joke at the end, how a bite of mushroom sure makes that pain gone. i did infact eat a shroom once, to underline the fact aint nothing helps, but it was in order to be ironic. and Allergist is no stranger to irony.
thank u poets and Ms. Poetry, lady u take us all on and with great tethers, unfolding by word, by bit, in strange pulpits. Banks' studio where Rafeeq read to James Baldwin under chicken hatching lights. at Lincoln Inn where Coley read 'Micheline in Cleveland', and Wallace 'even the letters of the heart spell earth'. Barking Spiders where Potts sang in smile and had us all in clapping hearts. The Lit where Angela's tone tone tone meloded. Bernie Johlson, you have such great fervor! James E. Stanley, you are the quietest neighbor, always improving the condition--you raise the property values here! La Charity spake in tongues, and we sallied thru eleven readers on bills without beaking rumor, all to break toil
for a weekend worth traversing for, my thanks to all and apologies that i darted out before we were thru.