8.20.20 - Pandemic Sonnet #1

Hot rain pounded on square, concrete tombs
Our opinions overrode data, famous last words
For single-pained souls across a gasping globe
In empty classrooms, ghosts talked to screens
Smiled and pretended that everything was clean
Science toiled cures, scrubs-clad martyrs screamed
Scholars silenced, pleaded safety not guaranteed
Wise words twisted, gathering dust on toxic pulpits
Whilst pious, fat hypocrites proudly flouted lessons writ
In their treasured, leatherbound, ancient moral scripts
Pride becameth Fall for faithless worshipping a Con’s greed
Falsely-winged devout demanded sacrifice, so blinded
They offered up children to a righteous Death Cult idol
Blame for self-evident sins falls upon poisoned, Holy men

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*notes and such
Two lines I liked but couldn’t figure out how to tweak and use. I still think this needs some re-arranging, but it needs to get out of my head for a while.

Omens in six-foot deep ends justified by green means
Foreshadowed in testing, autopsies backdated two weeks,

3.30.20 - #corona2020 V

Is there anyone sleeping well anymore?
Either the brain is rolling a thousand miles
An hour, in the haunted still of night
Or the walls are too tight and we’re desperate for daylight
I don’t remember the last time I laid my head down
And felt rested the next morning, renewed
We’re sitting on our hands, trying to pass the time
Reflecting on all our mistakes, all the lies

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It’s been hard to be productive. I’ve gotten the job done, now thankful that I have a steady income when one out of five has filed for unemployment, including J. Trying to do yoga in the sunroom followed by elliptical bands and the recumbent bike lying in the garage, just to move a little during the week. Hoping I can find a bit of drive to really edit GR and work on the Robyn story. Need something to do, to feel useful.

J seems to have gotten L to a place where she’s a little more stable. We’re still a long way from out of the woods yet, but every day is a won day. Even when the world outside is falling into a recession unlike anything ever seen in modern history, due to a viral pandemic and a political narrative out of a Michael Chrichton novel. D is coughing less, thankfully we don’t think anyone has COVID but since there’s still not a real chance of us getting tested in our current condition, we’re just riding out the storm.

Thankful for little moments, like D winning at Cards Against Humanity. Chasing Janeway in the backyard. Playing Diablo with J at three in the morning, dancing in the living room during dinner.

3.16.20 - #corona2020 II

I realized, only recently, how poorly I do with internal anxiety
There’s a train, running away, in my head sometimes
If I try, stay busy, maybe the brakes may recover before
I reach the end of the bridge, the end of the world

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First full real day of what seems like a real, new normal. Not that we would go out if we could, ‘cause we can’t afford it, but because this illness is a bad rollercoaster ride. We’re not sure if J and D have it, since there weren’t testing kits last week. They’re supposed to call the Georgia Board of Health or something, go through a questionnaire, to even qualify for a test. Right now we’re operating under a 14-day quarantine diagnosed as pneumonia for J, and a 5-day quarantine diagnosed as bronchitis for D. I feel fine, but there’s a tension in the air. We’re faced with the added anxieties of having nothing better to do than reflect on our own past terrors and nightmares. While we wait on referrals for therapists to work through the overloaded for-profit under-prepared American Health Care nightmare, the news outside gets worse and the future darkens a little.

So I went to the gym anyway. I need something besides working my way through the feedback notes on Gravity’s Reach in preparation for a May Writer’s Conference that likely could be cancelled. I’ve been working on the Robin Hood homage, and that’s been more fun. I also have to check grades, put together plans for next week (both planning for online or in-class delivery), and take care of three hurting people.

”We’re broken, but we’re not damaged goods.”

”We do the best we can.”

At least one thing I can pull, a few moments with the dog in the backyard watching her play before she spent hours by my side while I wrote.

That’s the career I want, where I can spend my days giving head scratches while writing the next story.