Category Archives: From the Writer’s Journal

From the Writer’s Journal (4/25/91)

The soup of the day is “kid’s livers,” but no one is willing to ask if it’s made from goats.

(   )

The shredded man once wore a goatee, but that was before he was shredded.

(   )

I harvest the venom. I sample the serum. I thread the catheter

And soon, like clockwork, the shocking begins.

(   )

I just wanted to bother the bison

before he got any more hairy.

He treated his gums so his breath was better than usual.

But, the low seated hump of his awkward thoracic lordosis

would seem from that day, forever out of sync.

(    )

Zinc and Selenium. Two trace metals that Joey forced on his younger brother.

The chemistry set was for naught.

When in Roam

When in Roam You won’t find a room When in Roam You won’t understand the language When in Roam You won’t find a spot for your car When in Roam There’s no point in looking When in Roam You’ll never sit down When in Roam There won’t be a thing to eat When in Roam… Continue Reading

Neuroanatomy 101

(written during my first month of medical school) Brains, I look at brains Ridge and crevice I hold, I smell, I peak Into someone’s privacy Into someone’s past Into someone’s brain Tear and tear, I dig Rip off the outside, Filaments glare in white inside Like wildly growing fungi Lump and hill, valley and stream… Continue Reading

Brookalo

From The Writer’s Journal: (Original Entry: 1/1/94)   It takes place in another life, perhaps in one of those camps, maybe even a boarding school. There’s snow. When I first leave the museum, I can see the the ski slopes and a majestic sunset. This is Buffalo and Brooklyn combined and I’m living next to… Continue Reading

Saratoga

(From the writer’s Journal 5/5/91) I dream standing up Like a horse in a stall I’ve lost the ability to play guitar My hands have turned into hoofs My back still aches from being mounted with a saddle The race track is fast The dirt is firm The odds are 9 to 5 Against me… Continue Reading