Just a Moment

            Me and Billy Hillerman were twenty years old in the summer of 1984, and had the world by the ass.  It was typical that we dropped mescaline one Saturday evening in July.  We sat around waiting for the signs that it was kicking in, but after a few minutes we couldn't stand the confines of the apartment any longer . . .

-- the opening of This Moment Is My Home my new novel . . . 

I play with my camera and mirrors

THE OWL AND THE PUSSYCAT:

            

some haiku:

                                                                                                                     this

this moment now is

                       a comingling sacred kiss
                                      of infinities

                       the magic wander,

                         yonder imagination,

                    river of stories

　

　

                                         I would tell if I

                            could, or would if there were words,

                                     but words are foggy


              






                 

Panda cubs on a slide!

           







What would you say to authoritarian forces of greed and control?