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A Century Is Nothing A Century Is Nothing
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Subject to Change Subject to Change
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Ice girl in Banlung Ice girl in Banlung
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Entries in poem (252)

Wednesday
Mar072018

Fried Ego

Alive is a miracle

Smile - We will help you practice

Hunt with a camera

Words are dancing airplanes

winging southwest one orange balloon morning

over Mekong 

Words weave shuttles

Fire

Spirit

Fog, river, a boat, fast current, mystery, yellow glow coasting flow

A bell shatters silence
Japanese sensitivities in a cloud

break

Mekong sings puzzling pulsating futures
wearing an umbrella

protecting statues

reading glazed eye travel books
gripped by opticians

loving lost favorable vacant eyed distrust and disquiet

The Book of Disquiet

Disquiet chopsticks probe teeth
smiling tremendous

labor unrest

as a character

a wisp of porcelain skin lowers her eyes

Gestures use people

Writing down bi-lingual laughter

a mother sings

cradling her infant - a sling was the first human vehicle

at 40 kilometres/hr

distracting eye candy
shields fleeting retinas

real eyes realize real lies

Accelerate around a dream

eating itself

a lotus blossom

grows from mud

Fried Ego

Wednesday
Feb282018

Laughter is beauty

A man pushes an empty wheelchair across airport tarmac.

Boarding pass woman does eyeliner. The 'modern' stainless steel global glass hair port design hasn't reached Vientiane time warp.

Laughter is the Beauty.

Transitions are radiant and clear.

One life, no plan, many adventures.

Intention. Mindfulness. Impermanence.

Ancient stories. Music is the muse in Luang Prabang. Clean air, excellent light, brown Mekong, green elevations, deep valleys and long visions.

Hey Orphan, your Mystery bike is faster now.

Yeah, we visited a shop in LP after seeing the old tire hanging on a nail next to a white shirt drying in the sun. He was a nice guy, filled the tires, blasted Mystery with water, soaped and scrubbed it down, air hosed it dry, oiled the chain, re-calibrated Shimano gears and said, I'm going to Japan next year to see my family.

 

Thursday
Feb222018

Fabulous Fables

The world is a myth. We live in a fable.

I used to be someone else but I traded him in.

Traveling isn't supposed to be fun, said an American father to his whining son sitting on a cafe balcony in Istanbul overlooking the Bosporus, it's an adventure.

I don't find. I discover.

 

Mai's hearing evaluation.

Anthony from NZ came, met, talked, promised, took her out, tried to seduce her, failed, left. Mai is resigned to her former life, massage and laundry scrubbing under the paternal gaze of her older sister who sits in perpetual admiration of her mirrored reflection.

How does her awareness and disappointment register in her POTENTIAL for unrealized dreams?

How does her silent resignation and understanding comprehend lost chance, all the complexity w/o expectations?

In the false dream of star rain they moved a wooden toy pawn,
the salad bar in silence welcomed cool air from a brown river,
children pressed noses to a rolling window, laughing.

An archeologist skips through star puddles into Angkor Wat excavations.

Freedom sings stones,
selling a Blue Pumpkin to a Cambodian land mine amputee w/o a left leg
selling DVDs to fat tourists talking with their mouths full.

An Enfield spinning the Wheel of Time, rejoicing in small miracles rumbles in Pokhara, Nepal.

Sit in meditation.  

We do laundry by machine, said Language Animal.

3.8 billion years ago a black hole captured a star the size of our sun. It sucked the star into its empty mass. The star exploded the black hole. The escaping energy created streams of light we see today.

At that moment 20 raindrops trusted intuition.

To travel is to feel.

Indonesia asked you to return. You said thank you, farewell. Hello Hanoi.

Orchids remember you. The apple tree you planted at Gardenia is growing. Roots buried deep below blossoms lie fragrant with memory.

In and out dialogue.

Discover what speaks to you.

 

Saturday
Feb102018

Life is a dance

They were mute manifestations of silent inexpressible FEAR.

I was deep in a world of silence.

I appreciate yes.

It was subtle, clear and immediate. I learned valuable lessons.

Slowing down, meditation, awareness, solitude.

Yangon, Burma

Yes, most ignored me. They were too shy, shocked or mute.

Too lazy to take the pencil and scribble their frustration or FEAR.

I appreciate the value of silence now. More so than when I was afflicted. Being pure and radiant.

It is a blessing with gratitude and forgiveness.

A combination of no voice, no hearing is perfect in myriad ways.

It's real freedom.

Freedom is knowing how big your cage is.

Freedom is having no choice.

Freedom from need or a need for freedom.

Humans manifest their loneliness with silent tears.

They project their fear and defense mechanisms on others.

Where is meaning?

Meaning is MIA.

Where is the pure joy in being?

How or why isn't he talking?

Where did his voice go?

It joined other voices waiting for articulation.

There's a big power in speechlessness.

People should talk less and draw more.

Life is a dance.

The dancer and dance are one.

Yangon, Burma

Monday
Feb052018

Short Fast & Deadly

How slow can you go?

Walk at the speed of a camel.

Design charcoal elements of crisp fire

infants scream at talking head women

driving young ones crazy

in out in out

their tongues bang like pistons

on a desultory 125cc engine propelled by virgins

returning home with their unblemished shy dignity intact.

One woman fans skewered buffalo meat to a crisp.

A Lao grandmother cradles an infant. She has diabetes Type II.

Shuddering wedding photos are frozen on a wall. It never turns out like people imagine.

They breed work and get slaughtered.

They trade hands and hearts.

She skewers another hypnotic form of laughter to preserve her ugh ugh conversation.

Fat lost European tourists waddle past.

With an accusatory tone men get smashed on weak beer.

A mechanic hammers one sharp line of description vs mundane observation.

Exile spills midnight blue Mont Blanc ink next to attention deficit disordered humans dancing 10 seconds down dirty.

Write short, fast, deadly.

Ikat silk designs drape well.

Non-listeners living abject cause and effect seek meaning with suffering and loss, accepting no responsibility.

Someone else controls their existence.

Milling Around, a fine art, embraces kindness and compassion. 

Mandalay, Burma