My picture.
Not another sound
Culture
Fade to grey
My Pictures
Behind the bright clouds,
a sun on thin ice.
Eyelids – filter
smoke trailed habits,
through cold crisp mornings.
And ripple reflections
of monochrome buildings.
The clouds edge
My Picture
A warm day in the city,
say no words.
Time is collapsing
and a sea returning for now.
All to enlarge the circle,
why not?
(a poem of indifference)
Blackout
My picture: Electricity loss is a common occurrence…so when it happens (as it did tonight)…I try and be creative 🙂
No power again tonight,
a field of evening silence.
Shadows caught on nails
and poems by candlelight.
Distant mountains muttering thunder,
releasing the clouds
one by one….. by one.
As the wildflowers,
let the years slip away.
Walking in the garden with Qu Yuan
My drawing: Today is Dragon Boat Festival in China: The Dragon Boat Festival (Duanwu Festival, Duānwǔ Jié, Double Fifth, Tuen Ng Jit) is a traditional holiday that commemorates the life and death of the famous Chinese scholar Qu Yuan (Chu Yuan).The festival occurs on the fifth day of the fifth month on the Chinese lunisolar calendar. So…I sketched this drawing of Qu Yuan (a poet and politician)
I did not know you last night,
then the doctors and nurses
….. the souls of China….
told me about your mountain spirit
and banners of cassia.
So I thought of bamboo groves,
and sky still unseen.
And how the thunder rumbles
and rain darkens
after all these years.
daydream
My picture
a very, weary day flies
sailing in concrete seas
with deep sleep a faint howl
cherished dreams take flight
A void speaks
My Picture: Taken in Harbin.
A touch of empty
descends into the evening.
I only loved the lonely bird
that flew to heaven.
Now making chills that last too long
Impressions
That’s how it starts
walking in the middle of now, here.
LCD Soundsystem,
and an easy morning sun.
A northern shimmer,
deep inside a faded city.
And the animal in me,
already in the birth of a new moment.
Halcyon days
My picture: My apartment….
Years ago I was living in a different place,
writing at that window facing the main street.
And then you came by…..
lightning guided by the gods.
A sea of cherry blossom, wave after wave.
And now…..
I write at a different window, facing East.
But with traces of those ancient moments,
and stones here and there.
A shade of a white willow tree.
Catching the sun
My Picture.
A Wandering Poet 