Monday Poem--"Red Patch"

Now suppose that I am looking at a bright red patch.

I may say, "this is my present precept;" I may also say,

"my present precept exists;" but I may not say, "this

exists," becaue the word "exists" is only significant when

applied to a description as opposed to a name. This

disposes of existence as one of the things that the mind

is aware of in objects. (Bertrand Russell, "A History of

Western Philosophy, 1945)





"Red patch, here, now"

I tell the doctor,

rolling up my sleeve,

doing my best

to avoid self-diagnosis.

"Itching, here, now," I add,

trying to elaborate,

which is not to say

that there is, in fact

anything that itches.

For all I know,

my red patch is all in my mind,

in a manner of speaking

(and which emphatically does not imply

that I in fact have a mind).

The doctor, if there is a doctor,

nods, smiles, writes on a pad,

sends me on my way.



"Red patch, not here now,"

I am now relieved to report,

as I open the mail

from the doctor's office.

Drawing the bill

from its envelope

I can't help thinking,

"white patch, here, now,"

wondering if precepts of bills,

like regular ones,

must be paid with regular money

or whether precepts of money

would suffice.

But I, if there is an I,

think not.