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

PastPresentFuture (5)

“If they won’t let you join their game, make your own. When they see how much fun you’re having, they’ll ask to join your game.” I thank my mother for those words. They have saved me many years of heartache and formed my best #pastpresentfuture.     PastPresentFuture   i. see her, hips rounded like … Continue reading PastPresentFuture (5)