poem

 The ImmortalsIn the palace of Borges ’ ImmortalsNothing made any architectural sense.Staircases narrowed to triangular pointsDarkened corridors dead-endedInto cinder block walls The basement was just a voidThat fell to the center of the earthCeilings were on the floorAnd the floors, well, they wereJust a certain kind of ceiling.Tiny trap doors opened into cathedral-likeDining halls. Arching gilded portals Led to monkish hovels barelyLarge enough for a cot. As I wanderedThese grounds I came upon an idea,A train of thought that seemed to makeSense of it all. In the following lines I will attemptTo convey my secret understanding —First I noticed the silenceThere was nobody hereThen I began to lose my words.5/8/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - May 9, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs