In my silence

"Watch out if you meet an alien, you could be infected with a disease with which you have no resistance," said Steven Hawking. This is reported speech where the sound of speech has no alphabet.

One of those overcast broken spine
too much foundation makeup
beautiful face above a big
behind tomorrow where men hang Ottoman stacks,
their dignity intact, friendships and soles, heels,

leather working tools as the knife sharpening man with one bad brown eye reflects wings from a pigeon in light, a retina, iris, cornea;

sitting, patient, waiting down at an old corner hearing,

hearing men slap playing cards on a table beneath leaden skies threading uppers to lowers threading steel knives lying sharp reflection.

You hear a slapping sound. He is smashing his old upon, outside, a window into conversations. His right hand turns a yellow switch extinguishing a single bulb.

Carrying his bent back he shuffles through today's history across fresh packed asphalt into a small place for rice and beans. Bread and water. Brown tea. A silver spoon.

The wind turns a page.

Peace.

Two men talking

A man told me a story in the old silk market.

"There were two men, a Jewish man and a Turkish man. They were merchants. It was the end of the day.
"I lost today," said the Jewish man.
"What do you mean," said the Turkish man, "you made 3,000,000 lira today."
"Yes, but I lost one day of my life."

Apparition

So I am eating salmon off a side street watching people pass by looking at the fish, carrying their plastic bags of vegetables and fruit and I saw a real ghost.

It was my father. The man had the age - about 65, face lines, perfectly parted hair, glasses - a nervous twitch around his lower lip when he stopped nearby at a shop to inquire about tools or batteries.

He wore clean well styled black dress shoes. Retired. Casual slacks, button downed dress shirt and light blue jacket.

It was his height, thin frame, upright posture, severe serious eyes. The striking resemblance was his face, especially along his narrow cheek, aged yet mature - old yet spry like a fox - a careful astute yet kind man.

Bearing, attitude, manner, his personality this inherent hard won wisdom. Then he disappeared into a shop with green door as the fish seller tossed a silver mackerel to a black and white cat. The quick cat dragged it into cover.

Vision's memory.

Peace.

Dive Master

Welcome to Earth, hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round, wet and crowded, etc.

It is a spinning rock and perhaps, an immediate place of fear, trembling, loathing and absolute joy.

I practice diving, sitting and eating. I mean, when I am not complaining about something like life, work, my outlaw in-laws, the rising price of bread, my spoiled crying children or lack of clarity I sit and I eat. I have a lot of practice sitting and eating.

My kids think I am good at reading and writing, but I say forget it. I am good at doing two things simultaneously - sitting and eating.

So, when the kids begin whining I straighten them out quick - "Here, eat this," and I cram bread and sugar into their yapping orifice.

When they grow up they will always live at home and feed me. We'll take turns sitting. We'll take turns eating. Life is just one delicious meal after another they tell me. Please pass the bread.

Here is a recent self-portrait. Another world below this one is astonishing. It is quiet and peaceful. You spin and float and sink and swim and blow bubbles toward the surface where they fly to form clouds above mountains creating rain which develops rivers and lakes and oceans and so on. Flow.

Here is a picture of someone's mother. She is everywhere. She is a colorful character along life's little road and she keeps her black purse snug against her thin frame to prevent robbers from stealing her identity papers. She knows who she is but carries the papers in case someone very important questions her identity.

She is eating a small cucumber slumber in the shade of a mosque on a Sunday. She is relaxed and staring at some alien holding a photographic machine. Her smile is disguised. Her name is Super Serious and she has both feet off planet Earth. It's a kind of magic.

MK 58 audio adventure is up and floating. Ear's material.

Pacemaker Kid

You are on the green metro sitting across from a young boy, maybe 10, his mother and father. His father's hands are hard calloused. They are simple working people from outside the city. The boy smiles. He is fascinated by the whirling prisms of light and color flashing past the window.

During the ride, his father reaches over and pulls up the boy's shirt.

On his little chest are two plastic suction cups and a small machine the size of a deck of cards. It is a heart monitor. It is measuring his beats, his life rhythm, his regularity. His father checks the display, sees the cups are secure and drops the shirt.

"It is a machine for my son. It helps him," said the man looking at me with tired eyes. "We got it at Hospital A, where the doctors said it was essential for his life."

After the shirt covers his chest the boy and I see each other. We smile, we cup our hands around our eyes and scan the big world like explorers using magnifying glasses.

He is a happy kid. He isn't afraid of a thing. We should all be so fortunate.
Especially all the "tired" adults streaming their life tales, "Oh pity me, I am so, so tired."

Talk to the kid. He'll tell you how "tired" really feels.

Peace.