I’m afraid I’ve fallen off the shadorma band wagon. I’ve been draggin’ my ass but enjoying the ride, enjoying it well enough to keep it up. I reckon I’ll write some more, if thoughts fit form and times permit. Shadorma November, Day...something or other.....hermits aren't good at keeping track of the days.
The palmist has cursed me always to wonder, did i miss that one thing that would have made me truly happy. Shadorma November, Day 8 (late again...)
so many more roadside wreaths out here where youth have so much less to do and yet so far to drive to do it Shadorma November, Day 7 (six days late....) (...or does that make it five?...)
The truth is such that the moment we turn our backs on it it ceases to be the truth that we thought it was. The truth is such that the moment we take our next breath it changes and it changes the breath that we just took. Shadorma November, Day 6 (seven days late....) (...or does that make it six?...)
everything is growing closer together up and out and down and god is getting squeezed from all the gaps, like the last bit of toothpaste in the tube, to land in the sink by the drain, missing the end of the toothbrush Shadorma November, Day 4 (nine days late....) (...or does that make it eight?...)
she speaks to the animals as her mother does, without the anger that finds its way into my voice. Shadorma November, Day 3 (ten days late....) (...or does that make it nine?...)
A Prayer Like Gravity 