​I am one
who eats the bun
and drinks the coffee.
Gazing at the boats
on the river.
Inspired and stirred
by the scenes, so lovely.
And after today,
who can say.

​One foot after the other.
Hitting the ground.
I don’t fear what is ahead.
Afterall, every step
is a new arrival.
There is no going back.

The clouds are rolling outside.
Sometimes the day brings a storm.
On other days a darkness
is rarely cast, and the
streets are still in spirit.
Waiting for the morning
flowers to fall.

Clouds and flowers.
They come and go, I thought.
So I look at both
through my eyes of life.
And don’t count the fragments.
Afterall, the earth is home –
and the earth is nowhere.
​
​

Day 6: Jinghong, Xishuangbanna.
​

After dangling between
darkness and being alone.
There is laughter and
no wasted days.

Why did it come?

I no longer wanted to watch
my life go down the drain.
Drifting into darkness
and shadowy abysses.

Now, most of the time –
even as myself I forget labels.
I prefer to get up each day.
Look at the pictures and
walk in the rains.
​
​And think to myself…..
​Like is a sack with
a few bones inside.
​Nothing more.

If I look hard enough.
I see my life in every second.
In every step.
I learn to write each day.
To taste the food I eat
with a heart capable of loving.
I learn to smile at the bee
in the heart of the flower.
I feel the pain in the eyes
of the elephant.
Trying to go its own way
I learn to live in the city
with a half- moon
neither dead or alive.
I see that my joy
and pain are one.
Tomorrow, I will
venture into life again.
There is always enough.

​

​
​In the morning,
​bowing to nobody.
​In the evening,
​bowing to nobody.
​Except myself.
​And my mind will
​not be washed away.
​Everything is within me.
​And my endless thinking.

​
​Picture it.
​A poet in a strange city.
​Walking around.
​Drinking coffee.
​Resonant of past things,
​But not locked into a blue vault.
​In other words.
​A natural life laid end to end.
​Words always find their subject.

​Sky is blue.
​More than blue.
​I saw two birds
​waiting there.
​Which one is you?
​And which one is me?

​A travel – exposed poet.
Blowing though the words.
A thousand road trips still ahead.
My mind points back
to how it always starts.
The memories of you.
The warmth of my tears.
A desire for adventure
that blows my way.
How else could it be?
​

Tomorrow,
in the breeze.
With a poet’s flare
and a soul’s thirst to bare.
I travel.

Bathing in the light
and carrying with me –
no more than this solitary heart.
Life rests in every step.

​