Almost no influence at all
But I do seek for readers

So many writers have touched my soul
I am a quiet pleader

Dripping water hallows out hard stone
Old monks are steady patient

Mustard seeds are barely seen
Confucius is at George Mason

franklin street
white feather
mountain bike ...

Lone Wolf

The Great Gaels of Ancient Ireland
Are the men that God made mad

For all their wars are merry
And all their songs are sad.

          - Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Yes, said Mr. Chesterton,
The Irish like to sing and drink
And play the fiddle in the band

But the question for us in England is:

How do we give them back their land?

My fellow Americans
At our best, we hold our country dear,
But the question for us
Is increasingly clear:

How do we give the native peoples
Back their land
When so many are no longer here?

Europa Report
eerie alien encounter
blue light night fright
         Ecuador

It's easy to feel powerless
They have the Army and the guns

Words can serve as weapons
But they take time to stuns

Patience and then bubbling up
The people flow like water

I write for my three young boys
And for her beauty daughters

Sophia always slips away
Ain't no one ever caught her!

I have a religious mind
But I live a secular life

Read, watch movies, play basketball
Fight with my Thai wife

The philosopher builds a Palace
But has to live in the hut next door

The poet sings his suffering
Like the rain in Spain does pour

Does Nature hide a hidden song?
Are dreams the hidden Door?