Even the breeze who incessantly sweet-talks the rose knows she was born thorned for good reason.
Everyone gave you advice, especially me. So hard to just say, "I'm sorry your daughter is gone"
I am elemental-celestial, fashioned by the hands of my ancestors from their very own prayers and bones.
It was the last chicken in Brooklyn. Well, the last one that was still clucking.
Let's make this year usher in a fabulous new era of the mind, the soul, and the world.
2018, my optimism is as great as my fear. Be glorious, and grow no more.
Haikus that touch the heart of my passions and my quest for answers and fun.
Is it even a leap of faith if you know you can’t help but land softly?
Let us know the generousness of wild, abiding and unbounded love.
