I extinguished the fire in my hands and sat there holding the smoke. I wanted to breath it in, it was the closest thing to a cigarette that I had, and as I worried about Phoenix I really needed something to get my mind off things.
, Peter Mohrbacher : I watched as the clouds poured forth from the mouth of the opening. The sky on the other side leaked through to flow down into the valley below, filling nothing of the infinite void that waited below it. Compared t
A glance over the shoulder a whisper in the mist, an echo through the trees. Spirit travelers, shamans and tricksters. As surely as his paddle slices the surface, he knows he is not alone. Poem by Wintercove Paddler in the early morning mist.