My Picture: Leaves of Xinxiang.
Shining in light
Music
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).
Down the streets,
cold turning the sky.
Silent friends are meeting.
So suddenly winter
comes to the city.
Pulling the shutters
on silent calligraphy.
Until next seasons stars.
About Pain
My Picture: Statue for the people, Beijing, China.
Sometimes I feel the cold,
usually it snaps and rips
at my bones.
Half hating you,
half describing life as a poet
walking the river of time.
But then again,
promptly and unexpected
a fire emerges from the cold despair.
A timid word,
a tenderness nothing can stop.
No matter who lives.
Dimensions of Space
My Picture (taken this evening): Xinxiang City, Henan, China.
When I walk around the city,
I have a sinking feeling sometimes.
We flow even when we stand,
searching for an elusive enemy.
As night slams down,
lights hover soft in an ageless dance.
Minutes and seconds turn their heads,
and I long for something far away.
Snow
My Picture: Xinxiang, Henan Province, China.
A few faded cracked snowflakes
softly down on my hair.
Decorate this silence,
whitewashing the patched
walls of Xinxiang.
A fire deepens the silence,
but my soul now has depth.
Morning Rituals
My Picture: View above Xiahe Gannan Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, Gansu province, China.
Coffee first thing in the morning,
unfolding yesterday’s copy of China Daily.
I read the headlines,
you can see what I am dealing with.
An old bent and sour universe,
rancor dripping from the neon sign
that says ‘ Number 1 Hospital’.
Outside the youngest people in the universe,
discounted and distributed
wonder what wonderful things they are missing.
Each one looking for something
to be marked at a glance,
a consummate victory of sorts.
Here comes the music now,
that melts the night-shadow pools,
and reflects the morning peace.
New Beginning
My Picture: Angus Young
A Wandering Poet 