Poetry

As a consultation liaison psychiatrist, one of his assignments was to work on a renal dialysis unit to determine whether or not a patient was competent to opt out of treatment.

His pager calls. Code Blue. And for no reason at all, he lifts the window and blows a little life back into the world.

We lower a plastic tray on his ribs, as if food can stop the dying: cold potato scooped like a snowball, canned spinach. More in this reading by Richard Berlin, MD.

Our identity as physicians is the foundation for our careers as psychiatrists and the first step in our transition from layperson to doctor takes place in the anatomy lab.

Listen to Richard Berlin, MD, recite one of his poems.

Wild Night, after the cops came to shut the music down, after friends and family were headlights pointed toward home...

"Einstein’s happiest moment...occurred when he realized...a falling man falling...beside a falling apple..."

AUDIO A good apple pie fixes every pain. Your grandmother baked them to be sure you’d know- Cinnamon for heartbreak, cloves for shame . . .

Today when the ground was no longer...

Poetry of the Times--Good Fathers.

Poetry of the Times Our Medical Marriage

We waited for the broken and the burned.

If You Ask Me My Name - Poetry of the Times

Hospital Food - Poetry of the Times

PTSD - Poetry of the Times