Myth (Dear Terence)
Nov 4 · 4 min read

The following is a prose poem written as a letter to the late modern day mystic Terence McKenna.
Yesterday, I met a priestess in her kitchen, where she sat smoking and drinking wine, and I sat stemming with my left leg, my place on The Spectrum showing, as I spoke about my divorce, and my cancer and offered to show the artist joining us my reconstructed breast.


