Intermission or Waiting For Godot

Due to a sud­den worsen­ing of my phys­ic­al con­di­tion, I have not been able to pub­lish any­thing here for a while. I hope to be back on track soon, but in the mean­time, here are some poems that I wrote in 2007 about chron­ic ill­ness. Since the same, still undia­gno­ced symp­toms that I wrote the poems about now have come back in full force, I think that this is a fit­ting time cap­sule of Laidi from 2007.


It makes one good at swal­low­ing pills
damn good
just give me all you’ve got, everything goes down
I’m not think­ing

It makes one good at spot­ting the mon­sters
like a sixth sense
white coats

It makes one scarred at the elbows
like gnarled land­scapes under the skin
harder and harder to find,
the pre­cious

It turns one’s days into one
wait­ing for
wait­ing for
a response

It makes one’s will and body
sep­ar­ate ways
unfor­tu­nately, we’re still bound by




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