alive is a miracle

Alive is a miracle.

Smile. Hunt with a camera.

Words are dancing airplanes winging southwest with orange balloon morning and hungover Mekong tourists.

Word weave shuttles. Fire. Spirit. Fog, river, a boat, current, mystery wills, orange glow coasting past a flow. A bell.

Japanese sensitivities in a cloud break.

Mekong sings new puzzling futures, passing, pulsating, wearing an umbrella to protect statues for eye glazed travel books gripped by design opticians with lost favorable vacant eyed distrust and disquiet.

The DISQUIET of chopsticks probing teeth smiling tremendous labor unrest as a character,

A wisp of porcelain skin finalities gently lowers her eyes sublime gesture.

Writing down bi-lingual laughter (a sling was the first human vehicle) a mother sang, cradling her infant from eye candy distractions.

Fleeting retinas shield eyes real eyes realize real lies.

Accelerate around a corner of a dream with a lotus blossom.

Yangon, Myanmar