High-speed haiku is sometimes the best.
My lemony boy with the smile so thick like marmalade.
The water IS fine. It’s simply a matter of consciously and calmly getting to its edge.
All her pictures from that period have a warm, soft-porn glow.
Fluttering syllables. Over the curve of the earth. Why not add your words to the song? Come to Tassajara in August!
“I want to repair a shirt, not a relationship.”
My house is small. A tiny guest room doubles as office and meditation space. My wee altar is tucked under the […]