Books Are Not Men And Yet They

Since Graveyards Are Often Built Over Older Burial Grounds, I Assume Dolores Park Was Probably An Indian, (an Ohlone) Graveyard Before That. I Think The Fact That It Has So Many Layers Underneath The Contemporary One Intrigues Me.

Even In Hell, If A Man Was A Man, You'd Know It.

Seine And Piave Are Silver Spoons, But The Spoonbowl-metal Is Thin And Worn

I've Been Reading A Lot Lately About Indian Captives. One Woman Who Had Been Captured By The Indians And Made A Squaw Was Resentful When She Was Rescued Because She'd Found That There Was A Lot More Work To Do As The Wife Of A White Man.

Basically When I'm Walking I'm Not Consciously Writing Or Intending Anything. In The Manner I Have Learned From Meditation Practice, I Let Things Unfold.