Give the Buddha a penny and he’ll give it back.
Heard it in a dream last night.
Woke certain he’d been with me.
My father died on Easter Sunday.
He hadn’t been planning on it.
What does it mean that Jesus had a warning?
I want you to understand me. I come from one or two regions beyond the blurry pasture.
I write with my wings and my heart hops in the grass.
I can be any age I wish. Today I’m 100 years old.
I used to be a large German cheese but now I am a radio.
The field behind
Spring night, blue
beside the first
a child stops
and plays kaleidoscopic ballgames
We’re here to be good and endeavor for strength. Such proud words. I fail, much as anyone does. Old Ludwig Wittgenstein sounds like my Finnish grandmother: “we’re not put here to have a good time.”