bi-polar disorder
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Prozac-Tinted Glasses
Yes I feel unwell withoutmy Prozac-tinted glasseseverything is sharperthe news more abhorrent the horrors closerthe usual annoyanceslike wire-traps snapI take the persistentmockingbird personallyeverything is altered The trees in my daily forest escape differentiatethe greens unfold in a Pantone kaleidoscope birdsong susurrationripples in sunlighteverything everythingimmersionnot aversionlearning to manage the amplificationunbound my eyes exploreall the cinematic angleseverything… Continue reading
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Out Is Through
Day 17 since I completed my titration off of Prozac. I was taking it for symptomatic or co-mobid anxiety while in remission from bi-polar disorder. I’m generally doing pretty well although I’m irritable and suffer from what the literature calls flu-like symptoms but I call allergy/hangover-like symptoms, a non-specific. miasma of the body, as if… Continue reading
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Motor Head
As a second Guinness spreads its dark blanketover a rough idling motor mind sucking fumesyou begin to understand heroin’s attractionfor artists with a similar redline turbine mindwhen Maxwell’s demon stokes the furnace boxto a dangerous boiling, release valve screaming. Continue reading
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Holiday in Cyclothemia
Informally known as “BiPolar III” it is that disorder’s slightly less demented cousin and counts as “in remission.” April 31is International Surrealist Poetry Day!Celebrate with your favorite elephantsycophant. Read them a bowl a alphabet soup omitting the vowels. Watch them writhe with excitement in South Pacific musicalmescaline color! (Gonna wash that manright out of our… Continue reading
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His Raptures
so many,I had not thought death had undone so many. — T.S. Eliot, “The Wasteland” Not death but that fine madness, though so many ended their own lives: John Berryman, Anne Sexton, Delmore Schwartz. I have lied about suicidal ideation to psych although that has mostly been a creative excersise. Have you ever thought: stop… Continue reading
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Clown Face
Brain maniacally pedaling the veledromeof cyclothymia and I can’t stop writingabout the women keeping me up at nightbut only in my dreams and calculationsof the tells I think I see across the tableas my second adolescence wobblesonto the track obsessed with his Big Wheelroaring to run away with the circus with-out ending up in Blue… Continue reading
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It’s not the coffee
I am Captain Cortisol, The Amazingly Electric Man I start my day with the Heebie Jeebees and coffee. Imagine the visible veins in your skin as wiring now run an unpleasant current through yourselfas if your whole body was an extension of your tongue and you’ve just put that nine volt battery on. It’s that… Continue reading
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It’s time to take Anxiety for a walk
It’s time to take Anxiety for a walk. He won’t take a leash; she only comes when I don’t call; to calm us both we need to retreat to the trees. This is my hof, my temple, my cathedral.Not gods exactly but simultaneously chthonic and a partof the heavens. Tree of Life Genesis and RevelationsKalpavriksha … Continue reading
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DON’T BLINK
I was doing well in remission with minimal meds until the current circus of the damned rolled over town. I had my own imps to deal with they were mostly under control doing very well thanks for voting for hell. Continue reading
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 