You who seem to be born with a pen in your hand,
who hold it as second nature integral to yourself...

Holds procession with
practiced spontaneity...

I'm coming back for awhile
To those childhood shops and...

This child clings to her cat
Falling asleep in the dark...

How is it possible that I have balanced before
Maitreya, carved from the unreborn stone...

Events don’t define who a person is;
what happens in his life merely relates...

I died in your arms
we slept through the whole next day...

The silent Communion 'tween Child and Dog;
Fresh made acquaintance, ancient ritual...

Waiting melts patience like icing in the sun
no sweetness left, just the anxiety inside...

Your river flows throughout this lovely country
past the humble home residing on its banks...

Subjective experience madness: Now Is Existence.
The past is not real, the future, with unborn...

I'm not one to say
I told you so . . . but I am...