My Picture: A place to walk: Xinxiang Medical University.
Another body count
Mindfulness
Summer grass
A picture sent to me by a student.
Winter numbness
with clouded eyes,
memories full of the past.
A passing songbird
on a blazing street side,
still sadly the heart beats.
And yet I see the old dog,
a dawns light betrayed by the past.
Still hopeful of life floated above.
Somber moments and dreams
brisk departure, echo another day
and sooner the sun.
Slow drift of winter
My picture…my gift.
The lady with the dog
gave me a gift.
We cannot speak the same language,
but I knew what she meant.
In this cold Xinxiang sun,
repeated each day….
a sweet note.
Of two people
who drink from the beginning.
A flower shift….
out of a shadow.
Winter–lull
My Picture: A book I found in a cafe in Xinxiang today.
Alone at 3 am.
A droll moon…..
because of the silent snow,
chews a hole to the sky.
An icicle drifting through
the morning coolness,
floats away through
the street dust.
Deep in my notebook,
the to and fro of a
lake of the mind.
Silence as the
dancing moon shadows,
and nothing to doubt.
Waiting out the storm
My Pictures: Taken this afternoon, Xinxiang, Henan Province , China.
Birdsong
bearing down.
Sometimes
a darkness to deep
to take outside.
A wind roars in,
my imaginary lover again.
The only living thing
in Xinxiang.
Interchange
A favourite place to walk: near my apartment, Xinxiang , China.
From the future,
a wind will arrive.
A storm unfolds
and words will play about
the edges of the clouds.
And the disaffected
will dance on tied-up
haiku, and rhymes
and meters in need of mending.
After the thoughts it raised,
all will appear as if seen before.
But the poets will know
how we all danced to measure.
And wrote of such dark goings,
all of which were words, words, words.
What to ask yourself
My Picture: Evening Exercises: Xinxiang City, Henan, China.
At the height of an argument,
I cannot name most of me.
Remembering her,
I grow logical.
My pleasant soul shrieks at me.
Back inside something lingers,
before theirs and mine.
Listening to ‘Talking Heads’,
as we followed the seasons.
Mind wings full of motion,
and one-by-one
we proclaimed “Once in a Lifetime”
was our song.
Baked into our souls
till death came knocking at our door.
January Dusk
Harbin: Heilongjiang, China: sent to me by a friend today.
Confronting the dark,
what sadness there has been.
A feathered longing
retrieved from a thorn,
a dull commotion of typewriter-keys.
Beneath the feet
of a dancing dragon,
old age now grazing the barriers.
And yet…..
out of solitude
I swallow all things up,
and see a poet
surprise his audience.
With the neon glow of his words,
and thoughts turned inside out.
Drinking under the moon with Li Bai
rbsh
hdrpl
My Pictures: Wall Posters , Xinxiang City, China.
In these years,
what I like is still
the shell I take.
Swollen shut
and looking for something
from the inside.
I love the lonely grasses
that thrive by the roadside.
Waiting for the rain to give witness,
and the sun to send forth its faint rays.
In silence to and daffodil mornings,
I listen to shell sounds
and bursts of wet clay.
While the moon wanders the sky,
sober and unrequited.
Words heard, and lost
My Picture: Wall poster, Xinxiang, Henan Province, China.
A Wandering Poet 