about
I came to poetry by way of a quiet, modernist architect father, a gregarious actress-poet mother, and a brood of brothers and a sister, raised in the cornfields of Illinois. Our household dinners were not so much about food, or review of the day’s events, but the mining of our minds. Conversations revolved around ideas, art, religion, culture. As a kid, I found this annoying and painfully tedious, with time, grew to look forward to our familial explorations.
Poetry is the culmination of these devotions and is now my nest.
I’ve run the gamut of many of these offerings: became a Quaker; fell in love with molecular biology which led me briefly to cancer research; fell in love with women, and have grown burnished by age and the good fortune of a family with my wife and three furry children. Quakerism evolved into Zen Buddhism and a sustained contemplative practice, the ground of my writing; undone by the killing of rabbits and mice in research I turned to the arts and studied dance and choreography at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts; grew weary of a hand to mouth artist’s life in New York City, and returned to science, applied to medical school which led me to become an oncologist and medical director. Poetry is the culmination of these devotions and is now my nest.
Poetry, coupled to a commitment to healing and nurturing community, sharing in the voices of others committed to imagination, art and transformation, as well as love for our planet. Interesting how that happens—what we are given transforms us, becomes us.
I’d love to explore this world of poetry, and generosity, with you.
ONCOLOGist TO POET
December 1st , 2019, I woke to pee in the middle of the night and headed down the stairs. Half-way downstairs I blacked out. My wife heard my fall and found me unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. She called the ambulance. I had suffered a severe concussion. To say that my life dramatically changed in an instant is a vast understatement.
Prior to this tumble I had a busy oncology practice with Mass General Hospital and became the medical director of one of their satellite clinics in Northampton, Ma.. I lived and breathed oncology. I loved, loved, being an oncologist. My patients were extraordinary human beings in the throes of unimaginable life change. To witness their capacity to be fully present, vulnerable and honest was, absolutely, the most profound privilege and honor of my life.
Throughout the first year after my concussion, I remained convinced I’d be able to return to work. However, neurocognitive testing and persistent inability to multitask, made it clear that would never happen. I grieved the loss of my oncologist self, my patients and my capacity to be in service, for years. In many ways, I still do, though, as with any grief, the ache dulls to a pale shine over time.
The brain is a fascinating and mysterious organ. Though I had lost my capacity to both multitask and engage linear cognitive function, I discovered the realm of the non-linear and the liminal, was a balm for my mind and body. I spent the better part of the first year flattened by headaches, and a relentless spinning sensation that lasted even longer. Listening to poetry, thank you Pádraig Ó Tuama, Krista Tippet and many others, gave me not only relief, but opened new aspects of my experience of being a being in this world. I returned to writing poetry, an interest of mine prior to medical school. I’ve not stopped writing since.
