Author Archives: troysherdahl

blue gnome and floating Buddha at opposite ends watching over my rocks watching over my deck of cards initiating sight liberating insight guardians of my mindful treasures miners of visionary ventures mindful of my monkey mind meditating on view meditating … Continue reading →

flying in over the Leduc County farm quilt snow lines, frozen creek bends, highway then runway welcome to E.I.A., ground temperature minus 30 with a nice wind chill to cool your leftover margarita cheers to E-Town! and my tan is disappearing already—   welcome home … Continue reading →

zombie clones with smart phones don’t look up to see where they’re walking zombie clones with smart phones are very good at texting with two thumbs but can’t get on the bus without stumbling— clones alone on the bus, comforted … Continue reading →

Avenida de Mundo (what a world!) has a pulse, amigo this asphalt is alive— skaters are fearless in the no helmet zone long boards, Penny’s carrying their surfboards slingshot behind racing bicycles, rusty Beetles and the shaggy beach horses   … Continue reading →

why Saint City? a ghost of a saint asks me— because of yoga namaste   because I meet a woman in tight Russian track pants in hot yoga in Saint City and she is hot she takes me to an … Continue reading →

this Manhattan is strong and sweet— I’m not blind but I don’t have to see the New York skyline to taste the big apple promise take a bite, tempting vermouth as Prince shreds Purple Rain frozen cherry and lemon rind … Continue reading →

los pelicanos glide and soar like pterodactyls without the screeching— twin sentinels roosting on our roof and mi amor says she loves them like guardians protecting our hut from banditos from other turistas, from other chaise loungers   los pelicanos … Continue reading →

old mexican divers on the dock with gray hairs— viejo rico with their young diving lovers on the clock, the sexy stares of— nuevo rico   scuba suited pro she’s from the city, pale where’d she learn to dive? did he … Continue reading →

that first time in Provence bled through to stain my heart with you— and wine and crusty loaf torn into delicious chunks carving up the Brie with a jack knife on that rock in the southern sun so sublime— sky … Continue reading →