Richard M. Berlin, MD

Poetry by Richard M. Berlin, M.D. - "Fungo"

If I Were a Painter

We waited for the broken and the burned.

I'm learning to bend the first notes

One more mouth rimmed in charcoal after an OD screams for release: to probe the night for the man who left her. No one pretends an interest: at 4 a.m. it's too late to care.

Sleep Lab Meditation

If You Ask Me My Name - Poetry of the Times

How Bourbon Says Goodbye - Poetry of the Times

Breaking the News - Poetry of the Times

PTSD - Poetry of the Times

Every evening, just when quiet comes, she awakens on the prowl.