her chance

Bursa, Turkey

the woman on the metro

with a burned leg - you remember her clearly
how she sat after dragging her bad leg

into the compartment
this image of her
alone
cold
scared
in pain
how did it happen? why is she alone?
on a cold 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 eye each other

how she 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 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 blocked by
neurotransmitters shut down
her chance

Light Language

A few poetic words about Kampot morning

Energies

Frequencies

Transmissions

Cool fresh dawn breeze

Swift lets in kitchen prepare bird nest soup using saliva

Boys tear down wedding celebration immaterial

after food, conversations, songs, dance concert

celebrations in narrow park garden

red bunting where loud happiness

spills into a brown river below a green silent mountain

Funky second-hand shop discovers Burmese cheroot

aha flashback to Mandalay market purveyor of rolled leaves

Dancing possibilities at dawn

Delicious stream-of-consciousness

Be invisible little angel of light

Have mercy

Wushu meditation

Comedy

Chanting monks flame orange voices

Ageless Vietnamese woman pushes wheeled trash treasures

Her spine curves toward tomorrow’s promise

Mystery light

Sensation perception intuitive

Line

Shape

Shading

Discernment

Detachment

Calligraphy

Breath

Line pressure

Sign language

Songlines

Optical Delusions

Illusions of separateness

No time

No space

Singularity

Life adventures – plot is a character looking for an author

Grow Your Soul

Sweet

The tender gravity of kindness says howdy hi howdy ho.

Buddhist Khmer are soft and gentle. They live in the now. Present.

Their challenge is to focus on more than one thing at a time. This unpleasant fact is illuminated by their dopamine addiction to phones. FOMO - fear of missing out.

Text me baby, I feel alone and alienated in a mean old world. 

Gadgets make great babysitters.

For the majority it’s about entertainment distractions vs knowledge.

Relationships here are like adopting a child.

All the adults need childlike supervision.

After serving and clearing breakfast dishes three happy female housekeeping staff go to the garden.

#1 you sweep leaves into a pile.

#2 you brush them into the plastic container.

#3 you dump them into the black plastic bag. Repeat through the garden. Same when cleaning rooms. Everyone has one clear task and one clear task only the lonely. Consistency is a challenge.

Earth is a precious garbage dump. Plastic Styrofoam food containers, bags, cups, straws litter soil and water.

The world is a village.

Mandalay

You can take the people out of the village but you can’t take the village out of the people. They have green Environment Awareness garbage trucks. It all ends up somewhere. Garbage in - garbage out.

Everyone speaks at once. Comprehension and intelligent conversations develop. In Laos it is loud and louder. Here the loudest one is the big winner.

Cognitive dissonance loves attention span, memory and reasoning.

Milling and crowding around is an art form like wild animals in a feeding frenzy. Indecision breeds a new generation of passive anxious consumers. This has nothing to do with tropical heat affecting DNA or innate Buddhist spirituality.

Let go or get dragged along...in Burma.

Conversation Dies

"He didn't believe in countries and the only borders he respected were: Borders of dreams - musty borders of love & indifference. Borders of courage or fear - golden borders of ethics.” - Roberto Bolano

The beauty of travel is the anonymous sensation in a crowd.

On a Sunday all the Khmer men gather for coffee, tea and stories.

Do you take milk with your stories, said one. No, straight.

Some study another's face and words.

The majority study cell phones or a Thai music TV video.

I love my phone, said one, it allows you to give up your consciousness.

Others study a conversation disguised as a peddler pulling his trash cart

down a street squeezing air out of a worn plastic bottle to summon the attention

of a survivor waiting to hear the air

knowing they can pawn junk,

perhaps an old family heirloom or weaver's word loom

in a Lao village along a river stream of consciousness.

No one bothers the stranger writing or drawing in a notebook.

He's been here many times, many places on Earth.

Men sit and stare. Trembling eyes pursue the endless stream of life.

When a face-to-face conversation dies someone picks up their phone to call another conversation.

I just called to see if you're alive. Amazing.

Have you eaten?

Yes. Today was eggs and rice, tomorrow it's lobster. Ha ha ha.

Improbabilities

I disappear into possibilities
floating into a parallel
universe
outside 3 dimensional improbabilities
on string theories of 10-26 dimensions

drumming ancient hieroglyphics
hammering stone dulcimers
polishing Dali marble

breathe melting snow
dream love floods
screaming eagles float

below Snow Dragon shadows

Lao Girl Reflects World