Honest, that meaningless word left dangling before children, a damoclean sword held fast in a gordian knot tied with scarlet thread, finer than the spider’s that once tied men’s souls to an angry American God, birthed in Transylvania, over the woods, and through the dale, no lie There is a tale of lies told in…

The slide show kinda accidently goes with Mike’s poem. scrol down to see it.

I put my hand in the hand of the man from Galilee, that song keeps playing in my memory, and I recalled Or I thought I did, I imagined he’d walk with me and talk with me Along life’s merry (or was it narrow?), way a light touch, his arm around my shoulders, as boys…