In the holiest of climes
where the trees to heaven climb
.. the sweet sweet rain
turns to sour juice of lime
...
Perhaps only a fool
or an ingrate
would critique God's
fall display of old.
...
The way to heaven
is not a stairway
but a slide.
Holiness is letting go..
...
Love is the food of the heart.
The more it flows uncircumscribed
to all creation, the more the soul
realizes he must stop eating
...
t was now July.
He had bought in December
an artificial Christmas tree.
It was festooned
...
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who is the ugliest of them all.
And the mirror replied:
'One who thinks ugliness
...
The engine roared
His plane soared
but then by chance
it struck bad chords.
...