Latest from the Blog

A Bucket of Words

I used to act like words came from a bucket. And each time someone wrote something that perhaps I’d like to write — a book, or an article on a topic of interest for instance — it was as though their hand was sinking into that bucket to pull out the words they used. And…


Vapid chatter floats through air once sweet⁣⁣⁣⁣Meditation disappears with conversation ⁣⁣⁣⁣Better fit for pigs ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣Topics worth their weight in dirt⁣⁣⁣⁣Values washed away with filth ⁣⁣⁣⁣Insight swept beneath a rug⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣Each syllable a sharp pierce to the ear⁣⁣⁣⁣Silence permeated with senseless words ⁣⁣⁣⁣Turns sour ⁣⁣⁣⁣ Archive 115

Falling birds

I was going for a run the other day when I came upon a dead bird on the sidewalk; a beautiful black, red, and white. There were no apparent injuries, certainly nothing to suggest an animal had caught it. It was just there, lying in the middle of the cracked cement, as though it had…

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