I want to apologize for walking in
When the dog was licking
Your bald head as you lay
On the couch drinking rum
Straight from the bottle…
On his route with a load of papers on his head,
he wasn’t tough enough to scare Michael
who socked him so hard papers flew
like peace doves all over Fifth Avenue.
If my mother had not been an alcoholic, I might not have been a poet.
From the table I selected a Big Book:
“The more hopeless he feels, the better.”
There was just one hope, Jung said: occasionally alcoholics could recover after experiencing some type of religious conversion. However, he cautioned, recoveries due to a life-changing ‘vital spiritual experience’ were relatively rare.
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So she wouldn’t judge, she practiced empathy, sitting for months in full lotus, palms open, thumb and forefinger touching to make a small circle she could empty her thoughts inside … Continue reading