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Lagos Blues
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A heart in winter
My Picture: Flowers in my apartment. Xinxiang, China.
In the pattern of shadows,
the chanter sings from the
memories of the birds.
Of swollen tears
and half-moon yearnings.
But I could see
the white of your neck.
As you lifted your hair to me,
to taste your standing form
and beauties slow curve.
The shell I take
My Picture Taken this evening at my favourite cafe. Xinxiang, China.
Inside this place,
trying to make sense
of the winter season.
Once denying age had no meaning.
Summer afternoons
and snow on moss,
a lifting mist across the canal.
Now, a slow autumn swing
and sounds of night trains
turn the clocks ahead.
Under a deep violet sky,
the sunlight splits.
And bears down
on a darkness so deep.
A new earth
My apartment door: Xinxiang, Henan Province, China.
Winter in Xinxiang,
it is not hot or cold, only warm.
Wind birds flying south
turning the sky in and out.
The sounds of people moving,
as life slowly unfolds.
Silent friends meeting
behind the camera,
in tune with the leafless streets.
Guqin stings barely
moving the night frost.
Somewhere beyond the grey,
tucked in a white wing.
A shadows rides over the frozen grass,
your shadow, ours…..
I await your arrival with a light.
Light in Zhengzhou
My Picture: Early morning is Zhengzhou capital of Henan Province, China.
I was driven to Zhengzhou this morning,
to have a medical.
Adopting the proper tone,
one of the Doctors asked me
how old I was.
I looked outside the window,
and saw an old man walking with
a dog by his side.
And wondered what the deal was.
So I told the Doctor that
that my anger has come to pass,
and that spring fever was
put aside long ago.
He leaned forward
like an indelicate December evening,
and told me there is nothing
wrong with me.
And everything continued
as I had written it.
Shining in light
My Picture: Leaves of Xinxiang.
The city was quite this morning, it was early.
Only the street cleaners in their orange vests
occupied the streets.
Gone from the woods and the world they knew.
A couple came along, turning
everything into itself.
She had an hourglass figure,
and argued everything.
As the last leaves fell from the trees
I thought, when the trees die
the birds go insane
and darker in the mind’s eye.
Catching the bus
My Picture: Xinxiang, Henan Province am this morning.
Riding on the bus this morning was not easy.
An hour to think,
about the unhappy, the bitter
and the unrequited.
Solitary existences that
exacerbate our sense of obligation,
and focus our thoughts
on life beyond the planets.
Dancing thought the potholes,
I listened to a podcast
on ‘hope’……
or how darkness scatters
and life goes on.
Listening to the sound of marching feet,
the poems simmered in my head.
And as the morning fog entered
the broken day, I was just glad to be here
and alive.
City Lights
My Picture: Xinxiang City, Henan Province, China.
I walk the city,
metallic taste in my mouth.
The roadside dust chews the sky.
Cars running
all miles away.
Laughing like fools.
Passing headlights
under a moon.
Not telling you the whole dream.
These apartment blocks
have nothing to say,
yet keep on saying it.
Evening coolness
pierces the nights first star.
I can see why
it is so easy to go crazy.
Pulled down shade
My Picture: Xinxiang Medical University (taken this evening)
The questions usually come in swarms
“Why did you come to China?”
“How old are you”
“Are you married….”
“Have you had some food?”
So, I usually tell them
I came to China for money
and to find a beautiful Chinese wife.
Something I thought was not possible.
Or I tell them about a fire inside
that ended in dust and disarray.
So they can see what I am dealing with,
and how you can’t always plan on the heart.
For some this is a first awakening,
and for others….
they can see what happens
when you sink into your dreams.
Enlarging the circle
My Picture: Wall of Cafe in Xinxiang (taken today).
A Wandering Poet 