Stella's Gypsy Garden
And
they'd sit
in her gypsy garden
gently applauding the lavender
taking its first gulp of spring
as
Through History Alone
Imagine a society with city streets devoted to higher consciousness and healing our humanity.
Institutions dedicated to the uncensored distillation
The Man in the Doorway
The man in the doorway doesn’t care about your job
He doesn’t care about your degrees or followers
For Krishna
He was a beautiful soul
burdened by a heaving body
and a gravitational ugliness
imagined only
in the works of
You Are the Christ
‘Where’s the Guru?’ I asked impatiently, laying our packs down after hours of fighting the dense mountain path.
He
Those Days in the Dirt
I recently discovered that one of the first poems I wrote had been published several years ago in the Cordite
Joseph Campbell, Art, and the Sublime
I've spent the last few evenings revisiting Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth series with Bill
Notes from the Marudhar Express
Whatever quaint, contorted image you've held of India is defiled when the wheels of the Marudhar Express start
Somewhere in Sapa
We were flying through the mountains of Northern Vietnam on a convoy of shaky motorbikes.
It had rained torrentially all
The Goodbyes
The goodbyes hurt the most.
Yet, strangely, the goodbyes were what you wanted, as you lay in bed gently pleasuring