Arlene Corwin Poetry

And the world goes on without me.

And the world gets through its day.

And you never start a sentence with an‘and’.

As I contemplate the boil on my gum,

The germ that could remove me in a night,

I take offense, collected sum

Of steam a dissipating stream

Which no one would so much as modify

One nano-second’s schedule for.

Earth without an Arlene in it

Without one self-adjusted minute.

Ants don’t change their habit-dance

Corroborating colleague ants

Who pass away, heads bitten off.

Gigantic are the forces

Pushing onward, forward,

Only nodding towards mortality.

This very day

My childhood friend rings up to say

His chemo- has been discontinued – insufficient.

Chemicals were not enough.

Stupid crab has gotten tougher,

Shifting upwards towards the head.

And the world gets through its day.

And the world goes on without one.

And you never start a sentence with an ‘and’.

^{And The World Gets Through Its Day 10.20.2006 (a little addition line 11 8.30.2016)}

^{A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Birth, Death & In Between II; Nature In & Of Reality;}

^{Arlene Corwin}