Pain in my foot.
Pain in my shoulder.
Pain in my sense of worth.
What matters is
not the pain.
What matters is
what the pain means.
Pain in my foot
means I have traveled
a long way.
Pain in my shoulder
means I have put in
a long day's labor.
Pain in my sense of worth
means I have more
work to do.
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Flowers
“…considering that life happens above all in the garden, it isn’t so sad.” – Vincent Van Gogh
Inside beauties
Lush perfumes dress, each
Unlike any other, shy
But awakening full blush.
Sunlight is everywhere, spears
Of yellow array dandelions wild
In the wind. It’s a shock
To stare at you, colors
For which there are no names
Except forms of praise: vermillion;
Opal puffballs; cascading orange;
Clarions brassing up the white
Carnations out for a kill
Among lilies. Now so orderly
In the insane asylum
Garden, tamed for study
Like taxidermied birds
Under a microscope,
Craving attention from the bees,
Lips overhanging each stalk
Young and green.
[Disposable Poem May 6, 2011]
Dr. Mike
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