kids speak truth

After a year and a half in a Wild West town,

Pounding Stick dragged his sorry angry alcoholic brilliant ass to Hanoi. 

Down a dusty road. Out of a dusty little town.

Past the Plain of Scars.

Past men and women de-mining, defining soil.

Harvesting ordinance.

To be recycled as garden planters, fences, restaurant fixtures, bracelets,

Spoons and impossible fragments explaining how the world works.

Going to get a life teaching spoiled rich kids, said Pounding Stick. $30 an hour.

He needed travel money for South America. 

A long way from England.

A long way from anywhere but here turning Earth.

Life is good.

Short, said a H'mong student.

It was the rainy season.

Tears ran down the street.

Yes, said another. He evaporated his limited patience here.

Yes, he did, said another kid. He absolved the dilemma of his loss. 

He projected his shadow, fear, and ignorance on us, said one.

It'd be nice if we had a more gentle teacher.

Accept loss forever, said a quiet kid. Happiness is small.

A small mansion.

A small fortune.

A small ____.

Smaller and smaller. Poof.

Nam Ou River

Moon reflection
River crackles
Mountain silent
*
Light of moon
Breaks mountain shadow
Dances on river
*
Crescent sends yellow 
Music dancing over river
Flickering into darkness
*
Bamboo baskets across her
Shoulders
Pacing strong
Steady across a long bridge
Toward mountain home

tomita park, asahikawa

enter 
face 
stone basin water temple
clap hands three times

throw water
on grey stone guardian lions

red, orange, yellow leaves
fall 

into sky mirror reflections
escaping fresh snow dust 

old people shuffle along earth path
wearing intricate kimonos

designed by
stone 

Asahikawa loom creators 
weave wool season colors
into old mountain fabrics 

protecting brown bear families 
preparing their winter solitude

bow low 
o mountains
o west wind
o glorious lions 
at the entrance 

 

the joy of it

"The main thing is to write for the joy of it.

"Cultivate a work-lust that imagines its haven like your hands at night, dreaming the sun in the sunspot of a breast. You are fasted now, light-headed, dangerous.

"Take off from here. And don't be so earnest."

 - Seamus Heaney
shhh! no running in the library!  Read more…

slow down the world

Women laugh, cut, cook, stack fruit, chat,
Gossip, feed fires with kindling and charcoal,
Chop meat, caress greens, forget their troubles,
Remembering families far away near mountains and rivers
Under a sheltering sky.
I don't know and I don't care, said a laughing market woman,
Pouring batter into tin cups for baking
Confections and coconut balls above her fire.