Archive for December, 2007

Dental Dispensary

Written by Concrete on . Posted in Institutional, Rochester

Unfortunately I lost all my photos from 2007-08, so this is all I have left from one of the first and still best places I’ve ever explored, the Eastman Dental Dispensary.

Solitary staircase
Missing steps
Extra steps
Forgotten steps
Unloved (all its long existence)
Unclimbed (at least half)

Unforgiving atria
Revulsive chambers, still
Echoing silence louder than sound
Ceiling (palate) nesting parasitic aviae.
Cubicle tongue stretched through unfound door
Vitreous teeth
Sharper than canine
Protruding unsteady exfoliate walls;

Fluffles of feathers
Visceral confetti
Surrounded in sanitary-green destruction
–One last victim of long-lost therapy
Resting in newfallen snow~
Dissected, forgotten–
Spattered essence of pigeon:
Decaying experiments in crumbling labs
Apparatus to be unearthed

White walls
Glass blocks
Sterilized prisons with multitude doors
Voluntary interment beneath halogen light.
Hypocrites of Hippocrates:
Operate here!

One last sharp instrument
Remains from the complement:
Tortuous tentacle of dentistry’s field

Darkened corridors
(Lights hang helpless beheaded)
Racked by decades bleaker still
ANÆSTHESIA / ANALGESIA
HYSTERESIS
ANALYSIS
PROSTHELYSIS
Dolorous names for
Sanguinous games

Bleaker, blacker still
Larynx and Pharynx
Architect airways
Swallowed down
Coughed up on call
Glass-enclosed capsule pills
That now sit digested
Forty feet below!

Great fallen (falling) entities
Floors intent on Newtonizing bypassers
Jagged holes above and below
Obscuring the darkness
Meteorical exponential disaster—
Who was next?
Everyone rides gravity.

That featureless emotionless repulsive green
Pervades all, even peeling
Always older, never aging
Hideous plumbous ambivalence by the gallon
Maybe once soothed the misery
It now reeks of!

A scream:
¡CARAJO: LE DUELE!
One of those days.

An order:
¡Si no sacas la muela AHORA, TE PEGA UN TIRO!
An abscess: ¿sín anestésia?
Dispensary of pain; 312-A
Squeamous organic stains abounding
Blood?
Could he have?

The sun shines down the riven roof
Exposes a spider web
A spider brooding
Myriad spiderlings scurrying
Among Dipteran decimations

Another voice:
Séquese las lágrimas.
A third:
“We’re leaving.”