Monday, January 14, 2008
Bad News/Good News
The bad news is that
the doc didn't call
to tell me the results
of the test.
The good news is
that he would have
called if they
found I didn't
have a brain.
Here's the
MRI receptionist.
I gave everyone
space helmets
because I was
convinced I was
inside a time
machine, watching
the world through
a periscope, focused
on a sign on the
opposite wall,
"tell us if you
are pregnant."
More tomorrow . . .
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Brain Scan
Tomorrow they are
going to take pictures
of my brain. That
seems like an interesting
turn of events since
all my life my
brain has been
making pictures
of them.
I get to hold
still while they
slice it to
smitherines,
and then,
breathlessly some
learned seer will
look at the pictures
and tell me whether
I have a working
noodle.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Assault
or perhaps caressed,
touched, at least,
by the multitude
of glowing lights
coming through
a forest to one
tree, standing
quietly there
minding her
branches.
The sharp
diagonal shadows
of yesterday
were so cleverly
substituted
here, indicating (either)
a choreographer
of immense
abilities,
or a random
generator
that
forever entertains.
Friday, January 11, 2008
The Three Faces of Diagonals
Earlier today
the trees, still
in winter,
shot out a strong
diagonal shadow,
traversing the
sleeping leaves,
and only halted
by another tree in
their path.
Then in the late
afternoon most of
the shadows disappeared,
and those that remained
had a soft edge and
not much contrast with
the ground.
Now, at sunset, the
trees are enjoying
the multicolor sky
as they remember
a good day for
productive shadow
making.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Feeling Ideas
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Elasticity
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Fireworks
We awakened in the
night with the loudest
bang of thunder I've
ever heard.
I glanced out the window
to see the aftershocks
of bright flashes of
lightening.
No trees had fallen,
though I couldn't be
sure until daylight
came.
The explosion was
followed by a torrential
rain, equal, I'm sure,
to what one might experience
in the tropics.
Now the wild party is
over. The oak tree still
has its leaves on one branch.
The leaves swing gently
in the breeze, not able
to describe the fireworks
they had so recently experienced.
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