I know that title made no sense, but I’m just trying to get into the poetic state of mind that has Rosie O’Donnell producing poems at about the same rate that I churn out bad jokes. O’Donnell recently penned a little something on her blog about her recent visit to the acupuncturist for treatment related to an 2001 staph infection in her left hand, but her poem indicates that she’s also still feeling wounded by the circumstances that lead to her abrupt departure from “The View.”

day two
and it is ok

i had acupuncture
she put some needles
thru the scar tissue on my left hand
lifting it up - from the locked layer beneath

stuck is how she described it

it hurt in a good way
one u can survive
as the promise of freedom
maybe movement
allows the ache
i breathe thru it
2 find
some open place inside
where there was none b4

Sylvia Plath over here is really quite prolific. For a final sing-song quote from Rosie, follow the jump…

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