elements of silence said farewell
a series of eyes investigated decompression
while swallowing fresh yogurt with peach slices
near afternoon's languishing empty promises
intent on discovering
explanations have to end somewhere
in her village she threaded new beginnings
her loom waited for the pressure, the tightness
between notes
the woman at the metro
with a burned leg - you remember her clearly
how she sat after dragging her bad leg
into the car, into the compartment
this image of her
alone
cold
scared
in pain
how did it happen? why is she alone?
on a late night in a flimsy sweater
her skin below the knee
running to her ankle
all burned away
exposing blood red lines
her abstract expression
her sacred scared distracted face
watching night fly past windows
where blue televisions and children kept an eye
on each other
how the woman kept going
on the metro past a stop
where the expensive private hospital on a Roman
hill gleamed its extensive intensive pensive care
ward and her treatment was delayed,
forgotten, useless
here
because she is poor
so she stayed in her seat
anxious now feeling her pain
wondering where she would go
where she would end up on this night
as a stranger studied her anxious, passive
expression feeling burns, violent burns
inside sensations fire and heat
nerve impulses darting through, along sensory
channels where signals are blocked by
neurotransmitters shutting down
her chance
cold clear foggy dawn
shawl shadowed on deserted street
you walk in the glimmer of silence
a fire possess a long partial memory
monks whisper visual blessing
dragonfly
Where do I park this empty vehicle,
asked a Tibetan monk
burning corpses
after an earthquake killed 2,686 people
in a remote village at 13,000 feet.
A child survivor ate cigarettes,
and paper napkins
drinking his urine to survive.
Life is found in a desperate situation.
Disaster gave the Chinese Party Propaganda
machine a glorious opportunity
to create a new Hero and promote being One People.
Namaste,
when I learned the alphabet
late in life toward primordial birth
infinite moment before now and then
air whispers sang
from my trash collector’s plastic bottle
pulling my rolling cart filled with cardboard
singing a muscular rhythm
stirring sonomulent dust on broken stones
in a deep forest
Metta.
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