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Intriguing. Everyday my damaged lungs cleanse themselves of what I visualize as a covering of phlegm, on 3-5 occasions, often with my conscious assistance but also unexpectedly, prompted by an intake of fluids or a bout of talking. I'm told it sounds deadly serious, but I'm used to the process. Early on, hospital burn unit nurses and doctors emphasized its value. I hadn't thought of that activity as the subject for a poem, however, and I thank you for providing three precedents. Barry On Wed, 24 Aug 2011 11:05:18 +0100, David Bircumshaw <[log in to unmask]> wrote: >*Vespasian Cough* > >*(after Shiki)* > > > The snake has grappled > >my throat. I think I'm about > >to re-enter stone. > > > > > > > > As well my own respiratory illness and the Emperor Vespasian's last joke, >this piece is loosely suggested by a famous poem, written shortly before his >death from tuberculosis, by Masoaka Shiki (1867-1902): > > > hechima saite tan no tsumarishi hotoke kana > > > The snake gourd blossoms. > >My throat is blocked with phelgm. > >I am already a Buddha. > > >-- >David Joseph Bircumshaw >Website and A Chide's Alphabet >http://www.staplednapkin.org.uk >The Animal Subsides http://www.arrowheadpress.co.uk/books/animal.html >Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/david.bircumshaw >twitter: http://twitter.com/bucketshave >blog: http://groggydays.blogspot.com/