The Gastrointestinal Tract as a Metaphor for Life
For Harry
The path we tread is fraught with twists and turns,
And fetid with remains of what has passed.
At times our movement feels too cramped – we yearn
For movement less restrained, like wind or gas.
Are we just clods, mere sodden lumps of waste,
The puppets of some peristaltic urge?
Or do we cradle some small heart of grace
From which a fleeting freedom might emerge?
At mid-life it is fitting that we pause
To contemplate old hungers, freshly stirred,
And strive to understand the cosmic laws —
And so, my friend, I offer you these words:
No matter what else you might think of it,
The stuff of life is some amazing shit.
This poem, written by Glenn Pape, was created for the birthday of his neighbor and friend, Dr. Harry Bray. Glenn lives in Portland, Oregon, with his wife and an aging, foul-smelling Black Lab. His poetry has been published in such journals as “The North American Review,” “Poets Lore,” and “The Sun.” He is proud to be published in Endoscopedia because, in his words, he can now “legitimately lay claim to being one of the most versatile poets writing today!”
