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Panchgani, January 2012

strawberry harvest
green hills
painted red

a vintage car halts in thick fog,
a basket longs to be filled


Mr. X's Poetry: Love of the Afterlife

In pain, we yearn a peace – release – of all;

In pain, do we await the Angel’s call?

What is it we, as feeble creatures, seek… 98 more words


The Dent

Slamming the door behind me, I took the most rigid and tense twenty-four steps I’ve ever taken until I reached my car. I hastily reached to open the door, but instead punched the once polished silver and left a slight dent just below the handle. 204 more words


urgent mail

I want to lift up my prayers in little navy clouds. I want to tie ribbons and balloons so they fly up high, higher, highest. I want to knock on all the houses, press a pen against their hands, and encourage them to write their petitions down. 68 more words



Once in a blue moon, the skyfish appears,

But only to those who go to wander—

And even the wanderers do not see

The glory that is in His great visage. 300 more words


Blue, I.

today you feel empty like seashells buried in sand,
but no matter how much i try to listen,
i can’t hear the sound of the ocean.

67 more words

Day Two - Or, Why My Difficult Contrary Self Is Solitary

I did the astral temple building meditation of Hecate-Demeter a second time last night. Well, that was an interesting mess for me. The idea, if I am reading her rightly, is that everyone participating in the “ 649 more words

Pagan Life