Monday, June 22, 2015

On This Longest Day

Inside a CT scanner is like being in a space capsule. Col. Chris Hadfield, I thought of you as I held a perfect rigor mortis formation, toes pointed skyward, as if in prayer. The capsule spins within its own orbit, humming to the universe, a song of the electro-magnetic spectrum. I chanted X-ray, gamma-ray, all the way to man-in-the-moon marigold in the color spectrum, the color of enlightenment, noting the red laser beam cross etched across my chest. I'm dissected, scanned and disassembled within minutes, then put back together into wafer-thin slices. Hosanna in the highest. The secret inside passages of my body, from hip to toe is made visible by invisible light. And tangible on the CD the imagist hands me on this first day of summer.

Danny Lynch That's a nice piece of writing...
Mark Adler So, that's what happens when you stick a real poet in a scanner. ("Poet" is my diagnosis.)
Kevin McConnell A whole new sub-genre!! Medical Poetry!!

Tree Bernstein Love this poem.

Gail W Armand I am so glad we are friends. Your words move me through realms I would otherwise shy away from. I am grateful! Every once in awhile I boldly approach a friend of a  friend because that person moves me. I have a handful or maybe two hands full of remarkable people in my life, met in this way.

Maureen Hurley Why thank you Gail, that's the kindest thing anyone's said to me in ages.Than you for seeking me out, I usually don;t friend people I don't know, but you're a keeper. 
Meanwhile, my knew knee is being constructed in some offshore netherworld. (stet).

Susan Wooldridge yes....lovely....publish this in a medical magazine of some sort...xoxoxo
Jim Corbett Forever the poet. Be well!

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