Freedom’s Just Another Word…

by | Inner Journeys

I woke up this morning from a convoluted, vividly scary dream where I was wandering, shoeless, on a dark city street in a seedy part of town. It was the witching hour — fading day cast grotesque shadows on dimly lit sidewalks. A nameless, faceless city, made...

Finger Painting

by | Poetry

Sea foam sparkles on the waves. Sea lions roar. Foam shivers, flies into the wind. The tide holds its breath. Hisssssssssssss ********** Ganesh’s belly rests in his lap. His trunk caresses tree, root, sky. His feet can’t be so small, can they? To hold up...