…(T)he passing of time lingers in the air and every abandoned every day object is woven with stories and secrets

…(I)t’s moments in time that count, not interpretations or rhetorical questions

…(T)o pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.

…(D)ear Hawai’i…

…(W)here the ordinary spills outwards…

…and the rest is just stardust and rust

...(T)he world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful

…(A)dults are just obsolete children…

(F)ield Notes from a HemiDog

…(S)he wanted imaginative nonsense…

…(F)ill my head with audacity…

…(C)ollections do not leave the collector unaffected

…(W)hen the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about

…(F)ield notes, from a Picture Dog…

…(T)he explanation, never quite fits the sight.

…(I)magination is unfinished…

“…(H)ow did it get so late?

“…I wonder if the snow loves the trees…”

…(S)leep is for the weak….

“…(F)riendship ... is born at the moment when one says to another…”