doctors

"Do you have trouble getting to sleep?"
"No," I said, "I want to sleep all the time."
"Well, you don't have the clinical signs of depression," he said,
clicking his pen.

I left then, for good,
and as I walked
the song broke through,
the loud green sound
of this garden called the earth,
the garden between my thighs.
The sky's spinning song
of light and dark:
a rocking in my blood,
the ocean's lowing like a cow
looking for her calf.

I sat and sang by the water's edge
where I knew he would not go.

The surest road to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill; Most of those evils we poor mortals know, From doctors and imagination flow.

My doctors told me I would never walk again. My mother told me I would. I believed my mother.

Then sing as Martin Luther sang, As Doctor Martin Luther sang, "Who loves not wine, woman and song, He is a fool his whole life long."

By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death will seize the doctor too.

The best doctor is the veterinarian. He can't ask his patients what is the matter- he's got to just know.

My illness is due to my doctor's insistence that I drink milk, a whitish fluid they force down helpless babies.

Doctors prescribe medicine of which they know little, to cure diseases of which they know less, in human beings of which they know nothing.

I know of nothing more laughable than a doctor who does not die of old age.

Doctors encouraging words: ". . . And don't you worry about that heart. It'll keep beating as long as you live."