American Chestnut The American chestnut is long gone, that doesn’t stop me from hoping in its thunderous limbs. I’m compassion; I’m not compassion. It’s all clinging to thinkings, like: how I think someone how I think I should be. This is the me that pisses; this is the me that reads Buddhist psychology; this is …

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The Antique Shoppe on Fourth Ave, Franklin TN The mirrored medicine cabinet leaned on the front porch. That was the draw to the Antique shoppe door, stepping in I saw a brown ceramic cookie jar sporting a windmill scene for sale on a shelf, twenty-five dollars. I’m guessing it cost five dollars forty years ago. …

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