I am the arrow

Kampot river market long ago and far away

Where the bad people hung heads as a warning 1975-1979

Hungry ghosts

Old haunts discover language light zones

Paint with light

Familiar stranger

Vocal chords produce conversations magic music

Laughter’s labyrinth

Meditate on emptiness

Self directed kid

Zen arrow

Talented people hit the target others can’t

Genius hits the target others can’t see

Want

Need

Market light energies

Golden chickens

Silver fish

Lost and confused simple kind locals

Noodle mama mystery buy / sell eye candy

Shuffling teddy bear pajamas sing voice wind

Intersection of Durian fish gold fabric

Blind string man creates haunting music

His daughter leads him by pulling his shirt forward

They wander broken cement market paths

Echo lament notes drift into / through ears

Unconscious ice melts

Dead kind eyes stare at a stranger

Scribbling non-sense data...laughter's memory

Japanese tourists wear black and white cotton elephant pants

Cheaper than ivory tusks

In heavy carry-on emotional baggage

Rain quality

Market energies dance light

Community flow excellence

Relationship b/t you and your experience

Empathy

Fragments

Live a meaningful life

Hunter with optics

Breathe and squeeze

No form or substance

Excellence

Non-duality

Singularity

You are a stream-winner

Raindrops

Samuel Beckett minimal absurdity

Your begging bowl

Wanders floating world

Memory market hum

Her New World Order

t-shirt danced past...a woman with basket of bread, a woman gently slicing then chopping bacon, a woman scaling silver fish, a woman dividing coconuts, an old woman negotiating passages with her begging bowl, a man carrying bananas on his thin back,

a woman fingering REAL notes, lost humans inspecting hope despair laughter and song,

girls doing a pedicure, a woman polishing red apples,

shadows dancing with impermanence,

spoons stabbing ice, glittering silver stars on a headscarf reflect elegant universe

The world is illusion

Just sitting

Experience

One day = one year

One year = one day

Author Page

Fragments

One-eyed blind.

On the 28th he said, Yes, I prefer doubt to certainty. I am more interested in the traces

than the object. I love the fragments.

On the 29th she asked, Where do I place it, this story?

What country what continent city village or heartbeat?

How do I keep it simple like a breath?

She asked him, Do you like small? Skin on skin? Yes kneading her shoulder muscles,

Easing tissue from her supine sublime spinal chord

Erasing tension. Her smile said, Yes. Her relaxation exhaled.

She spoke with hand wings. Short, fast and deadly.

She dreamed of writing a poem perhaps flash fiction.

She selected a pen unscrewed the black ebony summit opened a black notebook.

She made a pot of green tea.

She began with flowing calligraphy letters.

My life began in a village. I don't need to leave my village. My village is the world.

She drew a picture. It looked like this temple. Women carved it. Caress the details. 

 

Tourists find, travelers discover.

A dreamer with controlled imagination.

SLOW CHILDREN...lightning bolts - blue butterfly, white sky, green flowers, red leaves, songs of invisibility, piano shadow notes.

How do you spell loss?

What I call "memory" contained an entire world.

A blind painter creates from memory. A blind writer. A blind poet.

Words of yellow laughter.

A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.

Burma - Give Peace A Chance