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Mercy

Farewells

An old porch swing, a birthday gift, an even half-dozen

Castaway

The bar is everything a bar should be. The lighting is dim and soothing, only the wooden bar and colored bottles gleam, and the bartender is a soft-spoken, soft-moving man with a golden beard.

Exile

Fire Moving In The Sky

It was the first time events made a difference, the first time I recognized an involvement in what happened beyond the few back yards and playmates that were my universe, the first time anyone said, “You will remember this day forever,” and I believed it.

Sunbeams

The friend does not count his friends on his fingers; they are not numerable.

Thoreau

Old Friends

Two World Wars and the Great Depression, the old Firesign Theater “Everything You Know Is Wrong,” a wet comb

Roads

A Paul Griffith Reader

I may well be wrong in my impression that people exist who have not had to earn their spiritual lives by means of suffering. It is difficult if not impossible to know enough about a person to be able to make such a judgement on such a matter with any certainty.

Mataji

I first met Mataji at the river. I had travelled a long way by bus, boat, and truck. The Middle Eastern countries were hard to travel through. I was pelted with rocks once. Women just don’t travel alone in Muslim areas.