Two poems by Michael Galko


My Relationship To My Rabbit Mind


I wake and try to follow the instructions.


White dot, single syllable,

mind a spot tucked in the gut,

(for some it is in the throat

or the forehead.)


I am having trouble locating my spot.


In the fridge I need milk, grapefruit,

berries, and half and half for espresso.


At the lab the finance people

want to know where is the progress report?


Should I respond today or tomorrow

to the email from the cute woman on Match?


Perhaps I should have peed first.

My spot has wandered off. And changed color–

now blue, then red, finally green.


The facilitator says I should not judge myself.


He calls it monkey-mind, the racing,

the flitting from topic to topic

with no defined order or purpose.

He asks me to visualize monkeys,

leaping from branch to branch,

as if chased by other monkeys,

all of them using toes, hands, tails…


I think of mine more as rabbit mind.