Remember the Bear
BY JENNIFER CHRISTGAU AQUINO
When the fall the sky turned orange from fire, and a pandemic roared, and the children lay in bed all day, and cancer took residence in your armpits, you found a bear in your basement.
BY JENNIFER CHRISTGAU AQUINO
When the fall the sky turned orange from fire, and a pandemic roared, and the children lay in bed all day, and cancer took residence in your armpits, you found a bear in your basement.
BY ELANA MARGOT SANTANA
Yesterday I found a salamander resting or dying in my garden. Translucent blood red skin with yellow speckles, big black bulging eyes…
BY MARY DINGEE FILLMORE
You listen all the time to the whispers of faraway stars’ radio signals. They barely flutter, but you’re more sensitive than any other telescope in the world.
BY JOHN BRANTINGHAM
Sunset comes late in High Sierra Summers, and by the time it does, I’m usually done for the day.
BY CHARLENE MOSKAL
As I age I find I can no longer enter certain rooms. I see backspaces inhabited by specters of a world fading into my past.
BY VINCENT PUZICK
I remember the smell of toast. I was in the middle of my morning minutes of Transcendental Meditation when my mother got home from her graveyard shift at the hospital.
BY JONATHAN H. MARKS
A few years ago, when I was on an international fellowship in Geneva, some friends asked me to go to the mountains for the afternoon.
Bodhidharma’s fundamental teaching was that the Buddha can only be found in the mind since its essence is mind itself.
BY JESSE CURRAN
For the first mile, I replay last night. New Year’s Eve. We’re celebrating from our separate living rooms…
Samurai Yagyu Munenori uses the popular Zen image of the moon reflected in the water to explain its application in martial arts training.