As Date Approaches: A poem by Anca Vlasopolos

By Anca Vlasopolos


Anca Vlasopolos published the award-winning novel The New Bedford Samurai; the award-winning memoir No Return Address: A Memoir of Displacement; three collections of poems, Cartographies of Scale (and Wing) (2015); Walking Toward Solstice (2012); and Penguins in a Warming World (2007); three poetry chapbooks, a detective novel, Missing Membersand over two hundred poems and short stories. She was nominated several times for the Pushcart Award in poetry and fiction.


Today’s artwork was contributed by Christopher Woods.

Christopher Woods is a writer, teacher and photographer who lives in Houston and Chappell Hill, Texas. He has published a novel, THE DREAM PATCH, a prose collection, UNDER A RIVERBED SKY, and a book of stage monologues for actors, HEART SPEAK. His work has appeared in THE SOUTHERN REVIEW, NEW ENGLAND REVIEW, NEW ORLEANS REVIEW, COLUMBIA and GLIMMER TRAIN, among others. His photographs can be seen in his gallery –http://christopherwoods.zenfolio.com/. He is currently compiling a book of photography prompts for writers, FROM VISION TO TEXT.

One comment

  1. When I was a teenager working the canoe docks at Coney Island amusement park in Cincinnati, Ohio, every Saturday night an orchestra played in a dancehall, Moonlight Gardens, on the hill just above the lake. Each Saturday, some time in the romantic evening, the swing band played the oddest song as I pushed canoes of couples in a special “lovers seat” into the dark water. A voice from afar would croon, “Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die… nobody, nobody, nobody wants to die.” “What the heck?” I’d think. After reading “as date approaches” I reflect on that song. My friends, those as old as myself, spend such care to make sure they live as long as possible, monitoring their food intake, getting the right amount of exercise, and following doctors’ orders as if they were the words of God. Yet, these same folks have seen the sad disintegration of their own aged parents as their parents’ bodies were wracked by pain and/or their minds became displaced from their own memories. Like Bella Gad, old age proves a misery to most and yet, I am seeing first hand, “everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.”

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