Digital Poets in the Hormone Jungle. When I lay down for the last time,. When I say my last good-bbye,. What will happen then? Will I turn to dust,. And be swept away, Left twirling in the sky? Will I just lay there,. Like a pile of leaves on a crisp autumn day? Will my spirit be sent to the heavens above,. To play with others who are there? Do I really die,. Or am I just sent elsewhere,. To play and grow and make new friends? If so, where is elsewhere? .

Five years in, still fascinated, still puzzling at it. Saturday, 14 September 2013. Confucianism takes on a new relevance to Westerners by upholding a Third Way. It upholds a Way that depends neither on external Gods nor external Goods.

Thursday, July 14, 2005. I was cleaning up the garage and came across an old journal I used to write in when I was living in Ottawa back in 1995. I never write poetry, so this is fairly unique. Monday is another word for Hell,. I know this feeling well. The first of seven days of shit,. Each one worse than the one before it. An escalating state of apathy,. I have callused hands,.