You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
Coming across a handwritten note from a friend who’s a wonderful artist, I once again thought how amazing the handwriting is. Not just his, but other’s I’ve known.
Sometimes I’ve suspected they’re taught a special draftsmanship script, but now I’m seeing they differ.
Still, they are amazing.
Ending with “In peace and friendship …”
colleagues noting insect noses
from watching old movies
to peeling shrimp
in a twenty-two-year span
of Sunday afternoons
skateboard have hands bags
the alcoholic scoutmaster
Removing Hippie Love from my shelf of available ebook offerings was a difficult decision.
From a writer’s point of view, having an alternative telling of Hippie Drum remained a fascinating experiment. Yes, it turned the story into erotica. But, with the release of What’s Left, I also realized it’s not something any daughter would want to know about her dad. And so, the two hippie books are gone, replaced by Pit-a-Pat High Jinks.
Quite simply, I believe Cassia’s story holds greater interest, at least for younger generations. After all, it’s really about today.
Jnana's Red Barn 