poem
Poem #40As soon as I finish this poemI ’ll end it for good.Bullet to the headSwan dive off the overpassSwallow a bottle of pillsOr inhale the sweet gas.But first I have to put this to bed.I ’d even accept something A few slivers short of sublime.But anytime I get closeIt always seems To need one more line.4/16/22 (Source: Buckeye Surgeon)
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - April 16, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
MeltsI like to think I was good onceLong before I began to fall.I like to imagine that raindropsBegin as beautiful crystalline Snowflakes only to melt Into unlovely wet blobsJust like all the others, caughtIn a long unstoppable fallIt ’s a shame that such beautyBegins in cold stillnessBeyond the reach of eyes,That our intricate designMust lose its original form.But such is the price of a life,Of hurtling down to earth.I ’m older now and Nearing terminal velocity.I was beautiful once.I used to shimmer in the sun.But now the earth is parchedAnd I sense my son is thirsty.4/10/22 (Source: Buckeye Surgeon)
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - April 12, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
HawksLately, I ’ve been Noticing birds of preySlow-circling confidently High above but not highEnough to relieve the uneasySense of impending attackRed-tailed and Cooper ’s hawks Soaring over us allLike silent watchful drones Against a deep blue void.Squirrels aren ’t the onlyOnes to be alarmed A gentle reminder, every timeYou dare to look upYou may espy a hunter,Always on the hunt,And something else below — Small, fearful, desperately alive —Scuttling through long grassesFrisked by winged shadows.4/12/22 (Source: Buckeye Surgeon)
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - April 12, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
Op Note XVIIIOur expectations were guarded. Two months of pain and nausea and malaise. Weight loss. A failure to thrive. Suspicious findings on CT scan. Her daughter said that ever since her husband died, she ’d been writing him letters. No one knew where she kept them. One night, while her mom was writing, she brought her a cup of tea. As she placed it on the table she saw over her shoulder a snatch of what she had written: I think I am dying. My love, I will see you soon. We offered to explore her, hoping for the best. She had been suffering so and was in such g...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - April 4, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
Winter BreaksI ’m that scraggly tree over thereLooming over all the rest,A wicker brush dustingOff a film of sootAn arthritic claw Grasping at empty gray,Ruing all the lovely thingsNo longer there to clutch I think I ’m the oneScratching at the sky Shaking my fistIn a shivering anger But it ’s just the MarchWind rushing inTo fill a void leftBy your fleeing chillThat sways my trunk and limbsAnd thesaplings and hibiscuses And the reeds and grasses,And all the world I ’m standing inSo I give up the scratchingAnd imagine the winds asA shaman blowing into being One more fecund s...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 31, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
Op Note XVIIShe ’s finally agreed to the operation. The original plan was to remove a tumor, maybe her gallbladder, her spleen. It was never quite clear. She wasn't nervous at all. She smiled and said thank you doctor. Do what you must. Someone would help her at last. She trusted us implicitly. But instead of a tumor we took out an apple, a pear. A glazed ham. A slice of peach cobbler. We were ravenous and incurious. This is what we had come to do. All those years of training. It was delicious. We fed like famished wolves. We ought to have been more ...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 16, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
Poem #38Time to write a lousy poem.One that doesn ’t work on any levelNo flow, no rhymeSpirals into a core of infinite complexityA din of terrified cacophonyGuttural groansFrom depths of hellPrimitive utterancesNonsensical, sensicalRepetitive patterning Sing song, sing songTra la la la la, la la la la la laA melody, a symphonyA smilingNow laughingHa-ha ha-ha ha-ha Laughing with all the others.Eyes gleamingFaces looseningLips and tongue shaping Speaking, words, speakingWords and then linesLilting along as rhymesIn ever accelerating cadencesCompletely and wholly connectingThis will be the one I don ’...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 15, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
Poem #39Poems never asked to be hereThey ’re just like usProducts of some dumb youngAmerican male writhing With the girl he thinks he lovesOr vice versaBut it never lasts, that feeling.Something gets smashedA final thrust, a shudder, a heaving silence There has to be something betterParents always move on to something else It ’s the poems get left behindEmpty husks of wordsAbandoned to dangerous vulnerabilityCute, but a lot of workNo one to tend to them To wipe their chinsOf redundant nounsTo swaddle their stanzasWith loving precision.They forget their own names But the good ones remain h...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 15, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
Verge of SpringThis feels like the verge of springEven though winter clingsWith the last of its waning powersNaked trees clutch At a dullard gray skyWith bony arthritic hands A random pile of dirty ice,Last remnant of week ago snow,Glaciers against a curbIf you look closeYou can see white buds of cherry treesAnd daffodil stems just piercing the soilIf you look closerYou can see an empty patchOf grass that won ’t ever come back 3/15/22 (Source: Buckeye Surgeon)
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 15, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
PhotonsWhere do the photons come fromWhen a match is lit?I ’d always assumed The light is just trapped,Patiently waiting to be released.But physicists assert thatPhotons actually arise de novo,Scratched into existenceEvery time an electron fallsBack from a higher energy levelThe steeper the fallThe brighter the flash of lightWhich means they ’re just an accounting trickA rote tallying up of numbers To make two sides of an equation match A sunrise reduced to the ineluctability of mathShooting stars as trailing digits after the decimalThe light of our bright shining world Nothing but a squ...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 8, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
Letter To My Son, To Be Read When I'm DeadI got mad watching you play soccer this morning. You weren ’t aggressive. You didn ’t hustle. You avoided contact. Your heart wasn ’t on fire. When you were open and the boys didn ’t feed you the ball you accepted it passively. You didn ’t fight. Where was your rage? Why wasn ’t your heart glowing like spilt lava all over the field? I know I’m exaggerating. It wasn ’t all bad. I ’m being unfair. The second half was better. But by then I ’d already soured. When I played I was a tempest of rag...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 6, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
IdiomWhat is the realAnd what ’s merely metaphor?Everything is just a received signalFrom something else, after all;Olfactory, audible or visible.Is the signal just a symbolFor something hard and unchangeable,Imperceptible as itself, at best bridgeableWith words and conceitsLike a ghost that shows itself as a sheet?A ghost is a metaphor for deathAnd death is a metaphor for absence For a ghost is the missingThat sends shivers down your back Even the word metaphor is a metaphor. I ’m proud of you, my son is a metaphorOn call again, working a double shift again Making good use of my t...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 6, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
TessellationThe yard has been pointlessly mowedThe flower beds edged And the clippings all baggedThe empty sink gleamsLike polished aristocratic silverAnd, once again, I have needlesslyWiped the lint trap clean.I can ’t help it.There is always somethingTo tidy up, to attend to.You have to.It ’s the only way it makes sense.Putting things back where they belong.Everything changesSo fast. Breaks or expiresHow can I expect to Organize the brokenShards of my lifeInto a tessellationOf interlocking shapes If I can't even sweepUp the smashed piecesOf a dropped black glass?The best I can do with theseF...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - March 3, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
TruthYour truth is everythingWrapped inside the liesWe ’re the ones dawdling In the foyer of a festive house Holding hats and heavy coatsWaiting for someoneTo kindly take them away We shouldn't have worn coats.We ’ll drink too much wineAnd forget these comforting liesWhen it's time to go home And the wind will remind usIt's always betterTo dress in layersWhen we get home (To the place where it ’s safe)I ’ll strip you downTo your raw pink Truth, trembling in the soft grayLight of a winter half moonBut you don ’t get to do that to me.My socks stay onNo matter whatAnd you ’ll nev...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - February 28, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
poem
ForgetEverything gets forgotten. Not just you and me. I forgot my keys. Forgot the meaning of the word misbegotten. Forgot the name of the poet who wrote that love is the original light that disperses into all the other colors. Forgot the name of other one who said a self portrait is always painted in its original color. We all get forgotten. The best you can do is to become a name like Thomas Jefferson, like Marlowe, like Epictetus. Nobody remembers them. Every history is a myth. Every poem a kindly lie. Every essay a sheepish apologia. It ’s best to be forgotten.&nb...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - February 21, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs
