Nobody grows up saying, "Mommy, mommy... When I get big,I wanna stitch and weave seams of Reality together." No one I know aspires to become a thread, aimlessly wandering through the fabric of conditioned Existence. That is, no one but …
Around the age of seven I wrote a poem. I cannot recall much of it but the last couple of lines ended with something like: OOOOOOO... I want to know this so-called Mr. Death... Does it all really begin or …
And then... I'm standing on the corner of the rest of my life, another homeless day on Sunset Cliffs Blvd... I walk on in through these gates, up some stairs and into a piece of Lutheran Church. She asks, "Do …
