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
Nestled pyramids, soldiers of sand,
No servants hand, no strangers.
No one died today, no saints
Made. Cat wore the Ankh,
Carried the dog headed staff,
Drawing along the sea crooked to
And fro on the sand, wand dragging… Read More Playing the Cat
A well-positioned boy who smokes out a window,
Discarding his amusement for a hummingbird.
His green sharkskin suit, brightly alert –
Dusted by sunshine, weakened with night.
Heartbeats, just over a wing he spots you.
In the span of a wink,
He’s gone from the ledge.… Read More Filming Pilgrims