When I tell her I’ve fallen for What Is Unknown, my mother’s face brightens. “She’ll be a good girlfriend for you,” my mother says. “Not stuck up like that trashy Well Known.
The Poem was worried. He’d heard rumors of Rondels in other lands being infested with illogic, and there was no known cure.
I’ll do the liberating for both of us, doll, he says.
You can’t educate a secret. Many defy time and live in the throats of birds chortling about the discovery of the universe, once and always hidden beyond sight.
Bob’s ego sometimes got stuck and its nobody’s business where.
A Yoga tutorial. A collapsed body. An expanded view. Peace of mind gone horribly wrong.