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As I have no doubt previously mentioned, I occasionally take care of my 90-year old mom. Even though her 'marbles' have begun to roll, she continues to lament that she never was able to achieve a dream to become a writer (4 sons, an activist political life, etc.) Since I spent a small chunk of my life in either directing or teaching in poetry-in-the-schools programs, I have taken to making up writing exercises for her. Since she can no longer write well, I take down what she dictates in response to whatever may be our 'starting idea'. Last night I read her short passages form Gertrude Stein's "Tender Buttons" and then asked for her response: "A single charm a single charm is doubtful." What do you think that means, Mom? "A single charm does not last long." We then get talking about rhymes. What rhymes with April, Mom? She cannot think of anything. Can you start a sentence with "April?" "April will break my heart." Why don't we do all the months like that. Begin with January. I start to write down one sentence after another: January will open the horrible threat. February will break off a few of the wicked. March the winds will blow and frighten everybody. April will break my heart. May will come whisking through. June is hard to decipher. July will never stop to say hello. August is jolly and happy for people like me. September is hard to take. October is full of joy for very few. November marks the worst that could ever come. December for many it's love and joy But not for me. I must say the language brings me frightenly close to her particular experience of the "end points" of her life. Unlike my dad, who was upbeat and open to pleasure down to the very end. My mother, on the other hand, who wants to please her son, thinks she has not well enough, that I am not pleased. "I think I am driving you crazy because I cannot take you to a point where you can tell the reality of what I want to say." In "reality" I think she - in her versions of the months - has taken me as close as I want to get. It is so dark. Thank goodness she still has some language to get to it. Stephen Vincent