Waiting room and hospital poems
Here is an excerpt from the Hospitalogy series, a collection of poems which has been published as a chapbook by my friend David Wolach. David was a performance artist for many years, but when he became seriously ill, he started rethinking his "somatic" practice--somatics meaning 'of the body'. David, at a recent talk in San Francisco, challenged us to consider how our somatics in daily life factors into our writing or can influence our writing process. (I used the prompt to journal about learning to use a white cane this summer.) David wrote poems from the Hospitlaoogy series during his stays in hospitals or during long waits in various clinics. Sometimes, he would ask his room mates to help him work on the poems.
Television Incision (Reflections on Drift, Sentence—Burst)
University of Washington Hospital, October 2008
I heard you in the next room
A double room,
An ikea idea:
The cars must have gone to bed
Times such as these [insert adverb akin to a slightly ambiguous sigh]
Times such as these is a loose nail,
Language is always
Facing a precipice, plank or wiretap.
Usually plastic maybe foam,
Sometimes oldworld metal and sin-
Function, your noises.
Read the rest of poem or check out David's blog at http://davidwolach.blogspot.com/