
This gallery contains 1 photo.
“Why wait until you’re sick? Play the cancer card. Live right now.”
At least the neighbors mourned;
No one should die alone Continue reading
I was eight and still cherished, and beloved, and the principal Continue reading
This gallery contains 1 photo.
The Grandmother comes as soon as I close my eyes. There is no “when” other than this shell that she is holding, Conch? I wonder. Abalone, oyster? No response. Wrong question. She stands on the beach, tangy green wavelets surge … Continue reading
This gallery contains 1 photo.
When I got the cancer diagnosis, with the shock of it I sort of separated from my body. It is protective, to not be too “in” your body when terrible things are happening to it.
This gallery contains 1 photo.
Speak my Name silently, Or by removing the vowels, Leaving mostly gristle, the toughest parts. Call me She Who Heals, She Who Has Visions, One Who Laughs Aloud. Sacrifice requires toughness. A lift of the chin to expose the throat, … Continue reading
This gallery contains 2 photos.
A canvas repeatedly slashed, A national treasure ruined beyond repair…. Some fear the repair has ruined the painting. Questions raised: why it took so long, cost so much.
Matt Knoth – bewick’s wren singing: thryomanes bewickii flickr creative commons
Why live? Why not just be formless energy? Why have bodies, this pain and illness – What is the point of the suffering? Continue reading
tickle by Caroline – flickr creative commons
Being diagnosed with two cancers was like being thrown into a tornado. One minute everything is fine, the next: terror. Continue reading
The part of me that was once moist,
The ground where the spring wells
Through the Earth – That part of me –
Gone… She’s a dried up mud flat,
Cracked hard pan.
Croning – is not juicy. Not moist.
More like hammered steel: forged, flattened, and
Wicked strong.