#dental
My face turns flat like a sheet of white paper,
My fears evaporate into soft water vapor.
A voice so soothing, steady, reminding,
We will figure this out—nothing is binding.
Plaque and disease—old plagues meet the scraper,
Fear starts to fade, growing weaker and safer.
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 12:50 PM UTC
I wouldn’t call what we do ‘blogging,’ would you?
I’m somewhat conversant with blogging and it would be like:
‘December 14th, I realized I was out of dental floss, so I called 112 (France’s 911) and they yelled at me.”
A poet might say:
The morning was pale and judgmental, the light didn’t illuminate, as much as accuse me of oversleeping. I’d just spit-out the last of my bubblegum toothpaste, when I tugged the dental floss only to be rewarded with a two-inch fragment.
The sink gurgled like a drowning swimmer as I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and then the linen closet - where we store spare soaps, shampoos, mouthwashes and the other detritus of modern hygiene -
but no floss.
I’d started the shower minutes ago, expecting a quick entry and now the bathroom had become sauna-like. French bathrooms have these box-like, ‘on demand’ water heaters, like 2 gallon coffee percolators, that dispense hot-as--holy-hell water, the mist of which, falling on the chilled, white, underfoot tiles, created a ceramic slippery-slide. I searched Peter and my travel toiletry bags, but alas and again, no floss.
The ticking clock, that merciless, bureaucratic tool, mocked the undoing of my morning schedule.
In a moment of clarity, born of despair, I picked up my iPhone and demanded “Siri, call One-one-two!”
The French telephone system returns a higher-pitched, single-tone ring with longer pauses in between.
Three rings later I got an answer, “This is an emergency.” I announced (‘C'est une urgence’).
“What is the nature of your emergency,” a calm, dispassionate A.I.-voice asked.
“I’ve run out of floss.” I blurted.
There was a long pause where I could almost hear the A.I. dispatcher glitching.
“Mademoiselle,” it finally said, “calling 112 is not a joke.”
“Neither is plaque!” I replied - thinking of how proud my dental hygienist would be of me.
“Yet here we are,” I added, before the line went dead.
.
.
A song for this:
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_21.mp3
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 10:15 PM UTC
Some like to journal on paper
Some scribe into their skin
But my testament hides
Behind guarded lips
Primal etches in a cavern
My mouth the masterpiece
Of misfortune’s skilled eye
The colors there bewilder
Red, black, green, purple, blue
A rainbow amidst the dark
A master of media
Poverty often crafts
The most intricate of spoils
Among the discarded class
Our mouths a showcase of toil
Charcoal smears the tops of my teeth
Red paint adorns my gums
Abstract strokes of white in front
Deep purple patches peek in back
The one hurting is mystic green
But when throbs wake my sleep
Ripe stench repels my taste
And pills hold no respite
I know a piece has rotted
And my collection must shorten
Emergency receives me
Teeth matching their coats
I share my exotic tapestry
Its realism, pain—my story
They cannot appreciate
And I lose one by one
The slow craftsmanship
Of life’s daily brushstrokes
With no compensation
And a receipt of crushing dues
A hundred years from today
Excavators will unearth history
They will decode messages left
In script, skin, and scraps
Piecing together our lives
I tour my dwindling sculptures
And wonder what will be left
When I am a studied remnant
How will they share my tale
Of slow anguish without glory
Oct 28, 2020
Oct 28, 2020 at 6:33 PM UTC
i like to sing lalalalalala
hopping through meadows lalalalala
me and my lift off ready propeller hat, suspended denim, wheat grazed overalls and that lollipop ...oh that lollipop that beacons ....how the **** this kid get a lollipop as big as his head.....oh **** he got a lollipop as big as soviet russia.....you think he'd be lifting barbells to carry a lollipop that big...yoooo arnold..... mr universe step aside we got mr ***** ****** cavity to be over here...
ahhh such a warm vignette of a sight captured on my negative stained film reel.
those ******* golden, luminous, norma jean hue
all altered piece by piece composition due to video editing after effects
the raw footage...oh the unfiltered, unsteady, dim lit, yet sharp as a boyonette ready to taste invasive fibers raw footage
me watching the world pass by as i drive my car off that unmarked, unused bridge exit, just knowing my car isn't going to assemble into a submarine...
did i mention there was light jazz playing to compliment the cool gravity propelled breeze....if only my propeller hat was worn...but it was a fedora kind of day :/
Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 4:31 AM UTC
Carrots are killers
don't ya know
breaking off teeth
while ya chew
off to the dentist
I had to go
feeling the pain
yes, it's true
Sat in the chair
the doc and hygienist
my only view
it took em awhile
with pliers he smiled
and snapped up
my last wisdom
too...
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
be more thorough
with your dental hygiene
lest the breath
behind the breath
get out
and things become veterinary
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 11:12 PM UTC
I was practicing a filling technique
(I'm a dentist so it's okay)
And it got me thinking about you
A T R A U M A T I C
It certainly doesn't hurt now, does it?
R E S T O R A T I V E
I definitely packed all the material in, didn't I?
T R E A T M E N T
Oops... I can still see the caries. And I think I filled it with trash.
well,
I'm not a good dentist anyway.
Maybe I should fill the void by writing?
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 8:57 AM UTC
You know you've got a problem
When candy is more than dandy—
When all you want is sugar,
And start trading teeth for candy.
O.O
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
Pre
*City noise drowned by my ears.
Rays of sunlight passed through leaves.
As cool breeze blew my hair,
I realize, I really wasn't there.*
Peri
*Inoculation started with titanium tips;
I looked elsewhere and thought real deep.
Anesthesia sunk down in my cheeks.
My face feel numb with swollen lips.
I think my mind wandered far enough,
Little me saying "Hey, I'm tough."
But my tongue tasted blood and rust.
But hey, I still do give my trust.*
Post
*Continuously, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
While bringing it back, after taking the ivory.
The familiar scent of isopropyl filled the air.
He gave me a specimen of the ivory that I once took care.*
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC