The passage of time is horrifying to face and acknowledge. But can it lead to something beautiful?
My thoughts while observing Brown University's class of 1939
Am I the only one that feels this way?
A former Buddhist monk got me thinking that time is a horrifying illusion that we can transcend.
A poem on a Penn Station wall inspired my own poem about what I want, need, and hope for at this difficult moment.
2018, my optimism is as great as my fear. Be glorious, and grow no more.