Poem

kick boxers attack mangoes

chop ice while shifting gears in the wind after school

six month infants wail at the hospital for a blue placebo pill

charcoal fires waffles

a boy pedals his bike

seeking recycled trash before wicker baskets say hello

spare change searches for user value collecting cardboard images in a squall

red ink meets onion paper at an intersection

whisper secrets with speaking sparrows

inside thematic variations Echo recalls speaking memory

hastening a chill dance with Cinematic expressionism

write in exile

write naked

write in blood

ink is too expensive

write like you will never see

your friends and family again

gestures of silence washes clothes by hand

family loss

personal joy

simple pleasures

mirrors

weight scale

mad blind whore in love jumps over the abyss

smell rain

hear leaves dance

Blindness

"We are like the spider. We weave our life and then move along in it. We are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives in the dream. This is true for the entire universe."

- Upanishad

 

Curious beginnings determine her artistic sense of formless form, coloring stories of her village, the other world.

Cutting, planting, harvesting completes slow rhythm of life. Her skill shines with every new expression. Her heart sings.

Her simple direct feeling is all sensation.

Art enables her this beauty. She describes what she draws. She creates what she sees. Her words fly through forests with resplendent peacocks, birds of paradise.

A blind conversation developed a through line. Turn a blind eye.

Blindness listened. Blindness heard muted laughter before intuition gestured pink floating word worlds.

Laughter danced with exhaled attachment.

Blindness danced through late yellow faltering light / penetrating bamboo leaves spreading themselves over banana baskets impaled on swinging posts.

A bike bell rang. A young Lao girl sat quiet watching the Vietnamese girl do her toenails. Cutting, and trimming, lemon / lime soak, cuticles, translucent before applying a silver hued glossy glean. Nail by nail.

Blindness solved the mystery of sight crying tears of silence.

A van labeled UNIVERSE filled with blank faced white Europeans trapped behind glass holding rampant desires and scared expectations on laps turned into a blind alley.

They fidgeted with uncomfortable languages floating into ear canals assaulting long painful strides navigating yesterday’s regrets / tomorrow’s fear / today’s dead lines.

Blindness practiced Tai-chi with precision.

Blindness exchanged blue ink for a dark shade of green.

A handheld hair dryer waved hot air over a shampooed head. Mirrors whispered empty secrets.

Elements of silence said farewell.

Eyes investigated decompression while swallowing fresh yogurt with peach slices near afternoon’s languishing empty promises intent on making it new day by day.

Explanations have to end somewhere.

In her village, the other world, the one she never left, Blindness threaded new beginnings on her loom of time feeling pressure and tightness between notes.

Sunlight dressed saliva beads blending a weave, texture and design, saying hello Beauty.

Beauty has no tongue.

Weaving A Life V1

Laos Poem

The blind man and his daughter.
He wore a felt hat. He gripped a wooden staff. His face was long and sallow.
The girl was 11. Wearing cotton, her face was solemn, shocked.
Both wore plastic flip-flops.
She held his hand.
They came to an intersection. Small buses, bikes, lost fat Europeans, orange robed wandering monks, silver vans. Women carrying bamboo baskets spilling oranges negotiated pavement.
The girl led the man across the street.
Their pace steady, yet hesitant.
She was his eyes. He trusted her implicitly.
A stranger drawing in his notebook watched them.
He pulled a 20 Kip note from his pocket.
He gestured to the girl, Take it.
She froze.
She spoke quick Lao words to her father.
Questioning, doubt, healthy uncertainty in her eyes.
The stranger gestured the 20.
She remained still.
He got up and slowly approached her. His hand extended the money.
His hand said, take it.
Her small hand emerged with caution. Her small fingers accepted the gift.
She smiled placing her hands together.
Her fingertips touched her chin meaning, Thank you.
She whispered to her father, it's 20.
His blind eyes darted back and forth.
He mumbled, Thank you, joining his hands.
His wooden staff hung in the air like a pendulum.
She led him away.

They disappeared.

Phonsavan, Laos

Blind

once upon a time in a place
with dark mysterious scared eyes

sharp knives
and no money
poor lost blind people
from a poor lost blind village
came to a poor lost blind town
carrying their curiosity 
empty stomachs
empty pockets
and cheerful childlike stolidity 
ignorance

inside teeming markets 
spilling vegetables, clothing, steaming food
invisible naked predatory children circle, hover near smells

watching eaters eat
the quick and dead

blind people laugh i live in the dark 

surrounded by light

hearing gold workers hammer
ruby, diamond, sapphire, emerald jewels

scattering gem sound seeds

 

Father & Daughter

The blind man and his daughter.

He wore a felt hat. He gripped a wooden staff. His face was long and sallow.

The girl was 11. Wearing cotton, her face was solemn, shocked.

Both wore plastic flip-flops.

She held his hand.

They came to an intersection.

Small buses, bikes, lost fat Europeans, orange robed wandering monks, silver vans.

Women carrying bamboo baskets spilling oranges negotiated pavement.

The girl led the man across the street.

Their pace steady.

She was his eyes. He trusted her implicitly.

A stranger drawing in his notebook watched them.

He pulled a 20 Kip note from his pocket.

He gestured to the girl, Take it.

She froze.

She spoke quick Lao words to her father.

Questioning, doubt, healthy uncertainty in her eyes.

The stranger gestured the 20.

She remained still.

He got up and slowly approached her. His hand extended the money.

His hand said, take it.

Her small hand emerged with caution. Her small fingers accepted the gift.

She smiled placing her hands together.

Her fingertips touched her chin meaning, Thank you.

She whispered to her father, it's 20.

His blind eyes darted back and forth.

He mumbled, Thank you, joining his hands.

His wooden staff hung in the air like a pendulum.

She led him away.

They disappeared.