Picture This: Some Days, Nothing Will Do

Nov 29, 2011 by


Two Cats on the Bed. | westvirginiaville.com

Some days nothing,
just nothing, will do.
I open the bathroom mirror

to get the hydrogen peroxide
to pour on the gash on the
back of the fist

I’ve pounded into the floor
in a rage. Over something, it’s
not important. Except, of course,

it is. So, I try and sit and
cool and chill and all that.
An hour passes, the grimace

Yellow flower, Purple Paint. | westvirginiaville.com

that was my face I began with
unclenches somewhat
and I am almost human

again. But what is human?
And what’s the point? My pat answer:
The point is to get to the point

where you no longer feel the need
to ask: ‘What’s the point?’ Yet
the older I get, the more I think

this misses the point and is just
words. So, I whistle past the
graveyard where monks sit

Visiting Monk. | westvirginiaville.com

mindfully in charnel grounds,
meditating on the bones of what
used to be a human.

And pause to uncouple from
all this aggression, this angst. You
can tell how well I’m doing with this

by the band-aids on my fists. The
world is a mess because we are. So,
it must follow: the reverse can be true.

If we are not a mess than our
world will not be so. It’s certainly
something to un-think about.

Bible in a bin. | westvirginiaville.com

Meanwhile, at the Goodwill,
where I go to toss all the extra stuff
in a life jammed full of it,

someone has tossed the Holy Bible.
Don’t take offense at my
photo, for it is what I saw

should it be the book of your life.
Me, I ruffle the fur of my here-and-now
evangelists on the bed with my

bandaged hand. Read instead the
holy script of yellow flower and purple
paint. And the scripture of a tree.

Sunset Rotary Park Tree. | westvirginiaville.com

 Photos by Douglas Imbrogno. Click to enlarge


More PictureThis:

~ An After-dark Walking tour of Huntington, WV
~ Insomnia Album: Pictures for the Pre-Wee Hours
~ Poems Without a Book
~ Six Variations on a Curve in the Road
~ Some Days, Nothing Will Do
~ Still Life with Lines, Leaf and Water
~ Excruciating Pain Report
~ I Got Nuts, Beef, Candy
~ Blue Rooms


Related Posts

Share This


  1. Artist, human:
    Suffer more than you need to
    so that those who don’t suffer enough
    might someday get your point.

  2. admin

    Idiot, author: Suffers self-inflicted wounds from incapacity to learn from prior woundings. See ‘Groundhog Day.’

  3. Unthinking of you and this lovely poem. Flowers and trees will always be safe. Paint, not always. And actually, sometimes trees fall when someone is right there. Flowers?

  4. I hope that it is true that pain is a sign of healing … at least most of the time. Good stuff.

  5. admin

    Band-aid off. Healing is possible. Flowers, Jill, do indeed help. Plus, not hitting stuff. Lines from a song of mine I have not played in years, but should: “Noses, walls and little nations / Men keep punching out creation …”