Christmas Eve, night of mystery,
Almost midnight - but wait!
Those can't be the bells yet...
Is it on the roof...?
Could it really be Santa Claus?
Ho! Ho! Ho!
And every peel sounds, to me,
Ho-peless, hopeless, hopeless.
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1965 - 2010
These words belong to the Rachel
who saved my life.
She can do
what she wants with them - if
she should ever find them.
For anyone else who stumbles onto this
page, please respect my copyright.
If you make fair use of any of it,
please credit me.
I may be in love. I still have an
artist's vanity.
This work should be considered
a work of fiction. No real life
precedents should be sought nor
found.
All contents © Kit Carsson
FAVORITE POST SO FAR
I call you Rachel of the Windows,
Because your eyes were always, for me,
The windows to a better world.
Because your eyes were always, for me,
The windows to a better world.
Kit Carsson
1965 - 2010
Words on my Gravestone (digital)
Rachel,
The God who is Love
Promises but one thing,
I will not forget you.
Our deepest fear
Is to be forgotten
By those we love.
And I am very afraid.
The God who is Love
Promises but one thing,
I will not forget you.
Our deepest fear
Is to be forgotten
By those we love.
And I am very afraid.
About Me
By one of those ironies of fate, Hurt McDermott
and I were both diagnosed with potentially fatal
forms of cancer within weeks of each other,
thus bringing the once glorious but already
gasping theater company, Marlowe's Swan,
to its knees.
Hurt went on a program of visiting Pittsburgh
to see just how depressing life could really be
to overcome his early death; but I got well
simply through the ministrations of my
sweet, beautiful-eyed nurse, Rachel.
She is cheerful, reserved and honest. She
has a greatness in her soul she doesn't fully
appreciate, and she loves music & beauty
even if she doesn't love me.
The problem with my recovery is
she left my life, and now I think
it would have been simpler if I had just died.
Unfortunately I don't think I'll die of love
anytime soon, so to make my life bearable,
and because I can safely say she isn't much
of a reader, I have started this blog to proclaim
my love for the one who saved my life with the
hope that no one, especially Rachel herself,
will ever read it.
and I were both diagnosed with potentially fatal
forms of cancer within weeks of each other,
thus bringing the once glorious but already
gasping theater company, Marlowe's Swan,
to its knees.
Hurt went on a program of visiting Pittsburgh
to see just how depressing life could really be
to overcome his early death; but I got well
simply through the ministrations of my
sweet, beautiful-eyed nurse, Rachel.
She is cheerful, reserved and honest. She
has a greatness in her soul she doesn't fully
appreciate, and she loves music & beauty
even if she doesn't love me.
The problem with my recovery is
she left my life, and now I think
it would have been simpler if I had just died.
Unfortunately I don't think I'll die of love
anytime soon, so to make my life bearable,
and because I can safely say she isn't much
of a reader, I have started this blog to proclaim
my love for the one who saved my life with the
hope that no one, especially Rachel herself,
will ever read it.
Followers
A WORD ABOUT COPYRIGHT
These words belong to the Rachel
who saved my life.
She can do
what she wants with them - if
she should ever find them.
For anyone else who stumbles onto this
page, please respect my copyright.
If you make fair use of any of it,
please credit me.
I may be in love. I still have an
artist's vanity.
This work should be considered
a work of fiction. No real life
precedents should be sought nor
found.
All contents © Kit Carsson