
Hudson’s Latest Work


On a typical evening we are side by side. He’s drawing or writing, and I’m reading or writing.
a metal bed frame rolls into the living room, & without wanting to, my mind goes there, are we the 20th room? the 200th? how much death has this bed frame held? the mattress starts to inflate, then i’m shown the oxygen machine, 7-foot plastic tube, with inserts for the nose, depending on the journey this might mix with morphine
the warriors play on the tv, microwave beeps, & the dogs eat their dinner, just another night at home waiting for the inevitable, passing of time, life leaving, of course there is much more, massaging of temples, feet, hands, kisses to cheeks, forehead, tears, lots of tears, for others it might be sudden, but our hospice bed slows it all down, minutes mean everything.

i listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul, where I’ll end up, well, i think only god really knows, there was a time when everyone knew cat stevens, mellow, introspective, perpetually coming of age, questioning the world, wishing for peace, early 1970’s, before yusaf islam, before the muslim allegations, but time has a way of passing, and he’s back on a snowy boarding school campus in the holdovers film, bleak backdrop, his musical return, forget all the wikipedia details, just take a minute, remember his songs, morning has broken like the first morning, he’s now 75, looks like a new dawn.
listen, to every word, change the toilet paper roll, go to the store, don’t ask what she wants for dinner, just make it, get the car washed and vacuum the inside, watch the rom-com movie, don’t invite the old frat guys home, make the dinner reservation, say yes to italy, say no to tv sports, clean the bathrooms, get the car tires changed, only buy jewelry that she has already selected, always share your dessert, never eat garlic in front of her, bring home flowers, always offer to drive, help your children with their homework, take the dogs out at night, rub her feet, say thank you, say i love you, say i understand, ask her if she needs help, listen, to every word.

actors, politicians, craving limelight, accolades, the ones who never got enough as children- love, affection, reassurance, the stage is beset with their desperate desire to be cherished, by strangers, friends, anyone, everyone, and often that void can’t be filled, the sly stallone sadness from an abusive father, demi moore & her alcoholic parents, peripatetic, moving her from place to place, bill clinton with stepdad roger, alcoholism and abuse all around his arkansas childhood, so they grab the mic, stare into cameras, give endless speeches, while the spotlight is on, the past is gone, but darkness always returns, they run, but they can never hide.