Thursday, January 17, 2008

Not Sin in the Garden of Eden



What separates man/woman
from beasts is that humans
can choose between
immediate pleasures
and long-term goals.

The pigeon psychologist
tells me that pigeons
will delay gratification
for a reward,
meaning that either we
have bird brains or
birds have human brains.

Adam and Eve weren't alone
in the garden. There were
spirits everywhere, peeping
Toms, so to speak, watching
a new species make conscious choices
(if that is possible).

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

A Nothing Day



Yesterday I wondered
if I had a hole in
my brain and today
I look out my window
and see nothing.

Almost nothing.
The sleepy logs are sitting
quietly on their
dark shadows.

The branch with
leaves is playing
possum, occasionally fluttering
like a kid who can't
stop giggling no matter how
hard he tries.

Just when I'm convinced
that the entire world
is brown and green,
three bright yellow school
buses pass by,
reminding me that
even a dreary day
is full of surprises.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

News



Doc's receptionist
said it would be
a few day before
they'd determine
if I had a brain.

So I thought I'd
look out the window
and saw an unusually
brilliant day with
the trees glowing
happily.

Behind the wood pile
one tree had a
beautiful nymphet
shadow who fleeted away
when my wife
came down the stairs.

Another tree had a
cross shadow which
slowly morphed to
a dancer arching her
back as if she doing the
"splits."

Across the street
there were a bunch of
trees huddled together
deciding if
the brilliant day with
its rich blue sky is
any more than a meager
attempt to save the
stock market from its
plummet.

In the meantime, my
brain pictures
(unfortunately not
readable by my MAC
computer) are being (slowly)
transported via turtle
down HWY 40 to my DOC

Ring...ring...
Doc says I have
a good working
noodle. (sigh)

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.

Anatomy Lesson and Love