Like chewing the late night grounds of a bitter-sweet happy life, these are poems of love freely given “without thought of return.” They somewhat unashamedly are found contra-dancing in the dark shadows with another collection of love poems “coming home late” if even returning “home” at all, the second precept perhaps providing meaning for the first.
But it is in finding the way that home may be found. ”There is no way home; home is the way” writes Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh.
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Daniel L. Smith, poet 