Today I re-watched the documentary, Becoming Cary Grant. Grant had a life filled with abandonment and adoration. At one point, he underwent therapy, LSD therapy, to help resolve his inner estrangement. For him, the drug’s effect of dissolving boundaries unlocked much of what he’d hidden even from himself. I’m sure if I’d ever tried something like that I’d probably never find my way back to myself.
He fell to dreaming like breathing. Words waited
there at the scrim between light and darkness.
They crowded where he lay, donned the guise
of horses, of enemies, of his own face
lost over time. Each rewakening tore another
hole in the selfsame flesh called by his name.
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I really liked Brenda’s poem and want her to continue writing great poems.