SEND IN THE HARLEQUINS

Dancing June kicked up her heels

inside the gentle rhythm of Cambodia

one day is 24 hours plus 24 hours minus a departure tax

Cambodia feels younger than Nepal

New dimensional shift in cosmic consciousness - youth.

Fewer humans, seasons, environmental sky, less than mathematically serene density.

SEND IN THE HARLEQUINS

Caress a spinal chord with a tongue/release arousal. Stimulation.

Beauty has no memory.

Calm.

Intuitive.

Serene.

Non-attachment.  

16 kick boxers attack mangoes

chop ice while shifting gears after school in the wind

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

oven fired waffles scrap a boy

pedaling 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

whispering secrets without speaking sparrows

life is a palimpsest

I acknowledged kairos - the shuttle passes through openings in warp and weft threads, making things happen, creating new forms, new fabrics inside my word loom. The shuttle voice allows me to recover, preserve and interpret tales.

I'm one of those people who’s learned through living that there is nothing and nobody in this life to cling to. An open hand holds everything.

There are no metaphors, only observations.

I feel free to move away from safe familiar places and keep moving forward to new unexplored areas of life. Drifting some said. If I had one coin for every time someone asked me when I’d settle down I could afford a world hypothesis.

Settling down was not an option.

I am a compass without a needle.

Yes, I could bid on blessings. I’d sacrifice pre-linguistic symbols and create silent metaphorical abstractions. My linguistic skills would evolve into love, into discursive logic.

26,000 year-old Paleolithic iron and copper paintings created a secret symphony of ancient stories in a Spanish cave. I was transformed there. No past, no future. Present.

No lengthy drawn out off-the-wall abstracts explains my small empty self to anybody anything by virtue off who I was, am, and will be.

Life is a palimpsest. Have ink will travel.

No lost, no found

What is your motivation?

What is your intention?

What is speaking to you?

I am a Camera.

A patient tiger in the sun, swimming deep waters. I sleep with the tiger.

I am cooling love, love shoved in, chewed, swallowed, digested. A 47 million-year old fossil. An Eagle nebula, swirling cosmic.

Destiny's child. A figment of your imagination speaking of memory.

I am hot red ink inside dust unloading cans of paint for a project to to abandoned,

Wearing a burgundy shawl from Lhasa, before the Chinese invaded with

Patriotic re-education pogroms, programs and propaganda machines.

I smell like clean laundry’s spring dance.

where people don’t listen

don’t really listen

don’t really care

sleeping with their eyes wide

open

struggling with anxiety

swallowing daily happy pills

by the by

hand me down my walking stick

Metta.