These poems have everything to do with the hospital. These poems have nothing to do with the hospital. This is the psychosis of the word/ward. The personal and the mythic. Obsessive and unrequited love. The twisted syntax of imagery and phrases. They conceal and expose. For those whom there is no outside ward: the Old Testament God, Plato, the mythic Irish legend Cuchulain, 19th century teenage poet Arthur Rimbaud, high wire artist The Great Wallenda, the mystery woman in the ward Kingsley, and the women of the inner landscapes Mary, Zoe, the Hazard Woman, and the Nihilistic Ticket Girl. Not to mention the author. Life is lived on consignment. Some of these poems were written while the poet suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. Or perhaps, they were written on the other side of there.