Confluence (2)

The headless chicken monster strikes again. Another disclaimer. This poem’s also a little graphic. You’ve been warned.     Confluence   ii. I don’t eat chicken anymore. But not because I stood at Mama’s right elbow, saw her strip the skins from onion, tomatoes, green peppers. A willing witness, I watched her render their varied … Continue reading Confluence (2)

These Days

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 … Continue reading These Days