MY COUGHING
My coughing is some wonderful old thing
whose hackings and whose spittings give to life
the sudden sharpnesses with which a knife
might foster and refoster festering.
I sadly spew my sputums and refling
a sense that all of breath must hold much strife
in which might everlastingly seem rife
much thorough abnegation sure to sting.
To cough and cough is, always: to maintain
transcendent motions and ascendent power
entirely focused on fresh depths of pain.
Whichever clearings throats feel, those help sour
all notions that might urgently explain
each wish to thrive for more than one more hour.

I have started up with a cold and cough and runny nose Brucie Hope you are well

Dear **Lovely Doreen**: As of now
no coughing is marring my 'prow';
I trust that your illness
is, never, a chillness
so icy it injures ~your Wow.~

Nothing a good piece of sirloin can't sort out Doreen....

Steve a huge stake cured my coffin Riggs