Journal: Blind Joe Death

February 6, 2022 7:39 am Last Homely House (reading room) Sunday. Foggy February morning. Quiet at the Last Homely House “east of the sea.” Audio world this morning: John Fahey, The Transfiguration of Blind Joe Death. Side A, Track 2: “Orinda, Moraga.” The tune always calls my thoughts to the Old Ground in California. No… Continue reading Journal: Blind Joe Death

No Confirmation Required

January 18, 2022, 5:24 am Last Homely House (reading room) A thought: doing things for the sheer joy of doing things. No reason other than the making. Gathering thoughts, visions, and emotions together into forms of art: words, images, sounds, some organized and others random. All of that with no expectation or need of validation… Continue reading No Confirmation Required

Journal: January 11, 2021

8:34 am Last Homely House Brief moment of light behind clouds—rose-orange blue. Gone now. Oregon clouds. The garbage trucks are roaming. My coffee is strong, hot, and sweet. I have another day. I get to do the things I love to do—except for travel—but that’s a minor problem. I’m thinking about just driving around town… Continue reading Journal: January 11, 2021

Getting Back

So what about that new project I hinted at way back on December 9? I can tell you a few things about it in the hopes of piquing your interest. It’s called Getting Back and it’s a memoir of my life as a Beatles fan. I realize that sounds nebulous but I can’t say anything… Continue reading Getting Back


The broom echoes in the atrium.Clear lightcold pink February morning. The neon sign cyclesHot Bagels Hot Bagels Hot Bagels. The broom’s push-pull repeatsas I drink this morning’s cupof Major Dickason’s blend. A moaning windunderneath the entry doors.The supple ring of elevator bells. Tony said yesterdaythat he had hopesfor the new century but theyhad diedin a… Continue reading Sweeping

Something Intimately at Hand

4.17.20 9:36 am Last Homely House “It has something to do with presence—not a future good outcome, but the immediate experience of being met, held in communion, by something intimately at hand.” Cynthia Bourgeault, Mystical Hope: Trusting in the Mercy of God (Cowley Publications: 2001)  Outside my studio window the morning light emblazons the maple trees in… Continue reading Something Intimately at Hand

Long Walk at Dawn

Excerpt from Chapter 14 of Winterland Nights Those first few months in Bollinger Canyon I lived in a buffer zone, passing from one chapter to another. I trusted the experience. Any apprehension that I felt was not because of that greater spiritual picture. It was because I had to make a living, pay the rent,… Continue reading Long Walk at Dawn

Rules of the Road

Think from the heart of the matter. Gaze in the rear-view mirror. As the past recedes—the road endures. No beginning and no end. Follow it.Let go. Hang on. Where there is safety there is silence. Slow down. Travel without moving—say nothingabout what you hear. Yesterday has already joinedthe geography of our passages.  The past is… Continue reading Rules of the Road

Shadow Sutra

I talk about the Buddha with my shadow(a shadow is not a shadowthat is why it is a shadow).We agree on many thingsand disagree about othersthat don’t matter muchand we are amused by the factthat we cannot see each other’s face. He is a smart fellow, my shadow.He understands the mockingbird.He doesn’t mind inclement weather.When… Continue reading Shadow Sutra


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