On Fire

You now hear my broken chords
Faintly in the the distance unmoored
Loosed and free until run aground
Upon a salty moore. Safely cleaned
I glean on the white million grain shore
And here I lay against my will
Here grounded evermore.
Yet I’ll still wake in the morning.
Habitually when my hands
Parting the sheets aways, sailed
Long gone I still reach after you.
I’m the water, the dew
Maturing into a pinguid mist
As the hands strike up the
Song we clap at noon.
The hour’s imminent.
Time to ride a wicked dream on
A silk weaved carpet twisted
With last night’s ghostly breath.

Read More On Fire

A Metastatic Cancer Vacation

I know I’m fooling myself to believe that there’s any real break from metastatic cancer. I know that there’s no mandatory, compulsory vacation days in this new, completely abnormal lifelong career of metastatic cancer. However I recently made some decisions that take into account the enormous amount of energy cancer requires – physically, emotionally, and… Read More A Metastatic Cancer Vacation

Childhood’s Psychic Wounds and Cancer: repression, PTSD, and my metastasis

During my two stints at Commonweal’s Cancer Help Program diving deep into the mysteries of my psyche, I stumbled into a littoral funhouse of morphed emotions. Buried deep, repressed beyond recognition were, of course my parents, old wounds of words and frightening events, memories at the depths of uncharted deep oceanic waters. Running long, those… Read More Childhood’s Psychic Wounds and Cancer: repression, PTSD, and my metastasis