14 September
by Thom Hunter
I carry the past that each day I chose One step to another . . . now everyone knows. It isn’t the past I would have wanted to claim But it is my past . . . it is mine just the same. I wonder sometimes about all of this Can there be no exchanging [...]
29 August
by Thom Hunter
Yes . . . that’s me. Front and center on the merry-go-round, a fitting metaphor for much of my life, round and round he goes; where he’ll end up, nobody knows. For too long, it depended on who was pushing and how hard. Just keep smiling and whirling . . . until you fall off. [...]