artificial

We decipher riddles, forecast speechless tongues sensing passion.

We accept ignorance in quicksilver’s desperate wandering. Boredom carves a niche in a soul. 

I hang laundry near the street. Memory is tempered by the slow heat of talking monkeys. Two boys walk past harvesting trash. One barefoot boy plays silent music with a long thin bamboo fiber.

The other twirls a walking stick carrying a plastic bag. His stick is used for prodding bags and garbage.

Local people mill around. Bored. They exist in their adolescent immature childlike wisdom. Passive is their inherent religious cultural nature. 

Others voice imaginary alien freedom concepts. 

A sofa attached to a roof towed by a motorcycle carries fat white Europeans to see 9th century temples.

A young man named Eternity wearing his new skin tight artificial plastic leg and artificial plastic left foot shuffles through dust. 

trust

Once upon a time there was a private school in Laos.

A foreign teacher faced 12 seventh graders.

Week eleven.

How many of you trust yourself? he asked.

One girl raised her hand. With confidence.

11 mutes stared blank. Weak eleven.

Thank you for your attention.

in tone a tion

ideogram letter symbol
inside a series of interlocking blades

is a Cambodian

land mine museum displaying geiger counters
radiation blast suits, screwdrivers, shovels, hi-tech sensors

fertile green rice paddies, farms, fields
1,000 Angkor temples built with laterite stones

pachyderms, topographical survey maps
statistical graphic charts
rainbow amputee refugees

relocation centers rehabilitation
co-pay deductible insurance policies
cremation ceremonies

bereaved starving relatives

curious strangers
spilling

desire fear and regret

rappelling through nouns
verbs and ideas with bamboo shacks

submerged mangrove forests
hammocks, charcoal cooking fires
naked children, amputees

short term Australian nurses
laconic teachers
269 orphanages
12,000 orphans

a butterfly farm
a silk worm weaving center
empowering singing women
threading thin and thick yellow

salvia protein based fibers
on spindles and looms
near Son Le Tap lake 

stormy monday

Namaste,

You know the lyrics. Remember the music.

They call it Stormy Monday. Tuesday's just as bad. Wednesday's worse and Thursday's just as sad.

The eagle flies on Friday and on Saturday I go out to play. Sunday I go to church get down on my knees and pray.

Lord have mercy.

Ain't nothin but the blues kiddies. Elementary

Metta.

T-Bone Walker

Learning Curve

Namaste,

Being a student is a tough assignment. 6th and 7th grade. English, religions of the world, history.

He walks through the monsoon now, sooner or later.

I am not your mother, father or nanny.

Pay attention. Stay on task.

Focus on student production. Request feedback.

It's not how long you are here, it's the amount of work you do. 

Coming down.

Welcome to the tropics. Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller.

..."One walks the streets knowing that he is mad, possessed, because it is only too obvious that these cold, indifferent faces are the visages of one's keepers. Here all boundaries fade away and the world reveals itself for the mad slaughterhouse that it is. The treadmill stretches away to infinitude, the hatches are closed down tight, logic runs rampant, with bloody cleaver flashing."

Student ideas. What do you want to learn? How will you improve your English and general education?

Learn how to feed yourself.

Metta.