Laughter
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rain dances pool
bubble life
musical interlude sings magic
concentric rings
water above / below
unconscious flow
dancing laughter
bird soars free
testing air
Ling's Vision
rain dances pool
bubble life
musical interlude sings magic
concentric rings
water above / below
unconscious flow
dancing laughter
bird soars free
testing air
Ling's Vision
Sandman flow waves
Flat line horizon
Tattoo queries with That Song in Sin City
Dancing orange sunset light
Collapsing blue waving rhythm
Flow
New water sparkles light waves/particles
Sparrow wing free flight wing seashell
Gauguin’s primitive visions - imagination
A shudder passed through his body tingling every nerve cell.
It was predicted by a long deep slow meditative breath
this inhalation staring at blue green gray waves
emanating from a flat purple horizon line.
Every afternoon is the same after four winds dance waves
Glitter, details, flow, tranquility, Wushu focus
Wind dances waves. Turbulent music.
Chinese visitors hide under umbrellas
gripping wrists walk the shore staring blindly at white Europeans on sun beds sucking beverages.
Dazed and confused by everything
shrouded women wear gaily painted floppy hats, sunglasses,
face masks devour their faces, shawls, long sleeved gloves and blind terror.
Self easy foam at the mouth.
The sea waved. Two white jet skis danced twirled and exploded over waves as wind pushed water.
A Khmer woman balances a large bamboo platter on head.
Light reflects bananas, mangoes yellow pineapples.
A man with a tray of sunglasses walks past with visual acuity.
In cheap mass-produced red and white soft-soled squash shoes
Tourists abandon exposure to ultra violet radioactive light
running into hard fast shade. Safe at last.
“Protect my fair skin,” they sang saving face,
a fear greater than death. Shrill echoes.
Grow Your Soul - Prose & Poems from Laos & Cambodia
Here's the pitch.
She stayed until 9:45 and left for work at an upscale spa wearing aromatic Grecian urns. He gave her 10 bones. Feed me.
Familiarity breeds contempt.
Get out of my life, said Telepathy. You are subservient and I am stupid to put up with this shit. He creased her indifference into a cumulus cloud. It rained goodbye and good luck.
She sat on the bed with her back to him. Sniffle sniffle.
Her fake tears formed rivers named Regret and Hopelessness and Indifference.
Fish behind twelve Laotian dams financed with Chinese capital to provide electricity to Thailand fed 60 million Asians downstream in deltas.
not hanford nuclear plants
mind you
filled with radio
active frequency shifts
seeping, bleeding
55 million barrels of
uranium
plutonium fool fuels
into down through
130 feet to Columbia River
water table
transparent tables
where drowning skeletons devour
questions
old fears sifting
healthy dust, no.
these plants evolved in northwest
Podocarpus, ‘maki’ loves some direct sun
needs to be in east winter window.
Ficus nerifolia, ‘willow leaf ficus’ bonsai
east window
watching for summer sunburn
likes dry air, misting is helpful.
Asparagus plumosus, ‘plumosa fern’
needs south window
during darker months
don’t water when soil still feels wet.
Dracaena compact will tolerate lower light
trim back to encourage branching.
“Beside the rivering waters of, hither and thithering waters of, night.”
James Joyce, Finnegans Wake
Through the rain drunk meadow
Fat on mountain showers and drowsy
I stitch, in my scissor step, through the long grass
A furrow like a tipsy ploughman
And harvest before my boots
A skittering wake of hoppers blustery
Down to the rocky banks
Under cottonwood shade.
Trout wand in my hand,
A silly baton, slicing the air.
And like a conductor browbeating the woodwinds
I conjure the slipstream.
I come to track this raveling course
And to track the course in me;
To watch the stalking sun crest the canyon wall
And paint the water pewter shimmery.
To wonder too
At the dizzy stones
And mayflies
Clouding the wild roses.
To feel my boy’s old heart thump, still,
When the water piles up
On the sudden shoulders
Of the heavy trout.
To smell the consequence
Of my slippery steps
On the wet and awkward rocks
That bruise the mint and mugwort.
To see silver dimes clinging
To the water-jostled cress -
Glinting coins in the watery sun
That spend well still indeed.
And too there, once,
Gold-spurred columbines
Elegant as shooting stars
On stems impossibly delicate.
To listen to the fluent
Gravel-throated chortling
Of water on rocks
And the dark sluicing soughing
Of wind in the sedge -
Old languages I remember well
Wandering wild within willow banks.
To feel the cold on my wet pilgrim feet,
The chill on my late autumn cheeks
In the weird arctic half-light
As dusk draws down the glen on me
And the stars a sudden swath of sublime.
And to again remember, surely,
That never will I know
The deep watery secrets
In the currents of time
Unplumbed in dark undercut banks.
From Mountain Wizard, by Thomas J. Phalen.