With the comforting new discovery that I live within a dragon’s bowl, and the repeating experience of generosity with a cycle of respiration, a plentitude satiates this wayfarer. In touch with the universe that moves through a tear, a pulse….

Maybe I have not missed a thing. Perhaps whilst floating there is only sky and sea and canyon walls. * Noticing as the most temporarily important task. Ladybugs in bushes and on leaves. A beetle crosses a path. Fields of…

I recently learned of a game called yes. Laughter became more available than conversation. There was often an itch before this invitation presented itself. A nagging burden of the addiction to disappointment that comes on the back of the negative….

Tearing at your own flesh will make blood. Attempting inhibition often creates eruptions. Occasionally it’s a restraint of wild woman anger, but most often a deluge of tears. * Watcher of changing morning light. When in one’s own wound there…

The sun on my face A tiny Buddha laughing Nature becomes me *   Nearby are my friends Javalina and the cats Nothing I must speak * My eyes become wells The slow turning brings the sound That delights my…