Education
Walking through rain
My picture: a rainstorm over the city.
Dark skies in Xinxiang,
liberated from the mask
of blue summer days.
A single soul, braves the dark
– bending to drink the rain water
…..in a shadow puddle left.
My death
A poem I wrote this morning….after reading a book on ‘Japanese death poetry’ . On July 10th , I will give a lecture on ‘dying well’ ….so there is some method in my madness 🙂
Returning years
My pictures
7 hours of marking, a matter of choice.
Neurotransmitters
unfathomable, vast and empty.
Apoptosis and the death of cancer
always on a journey, ill
DNA and a cause for everything,
a mutation here
and a blue-eyed wonder boy there.
In the end,
I wanted to howl like Ginsberg
to feed my patience.
To learn to think,
and clean a wound that won’t close.
Another shadow in a fading light,
a vast and empty hole.
Not quite the truth
My picture: sometimes I jut cannot do what I am asked to do 🙂
By a falling tree,
soft leathery lies.
Small cracks appear
” Just ignore them”
they said.
Falsehoods of time,
they have no one to turn to.
Only their parents,
once again.
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.
Me and Bob Dylan, again
hdrpl
First picture: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/bob-dylan-artwork-go-view-217297 Second picture : my drawing
Sometimes I dream of sunshine,
but not often.
Last night Bob Dylan appeared,
riding on soft marshmallow clouds…..
a contrived visual modality.
“Bob Dylan? What are you doing here” said I.
As the night unfolded….. there was a quest to write and dream.
And as the clouds left
Bob told me
“You know… this world is ours, all of ours…
but is run by people who never listen to music, anyway”
With that the dream drifted away,
like a bottle on a journey.
So empty to be.
Catching the sun
My Picture.
Bodies drawn to light
I went to catch the sun
Half open by wind
It knows my pain
It knows my hopes
Too dark for sunrise
Understanding pain
My pictures…and my students words…
I talked to the students about pain today,
it was one of those days.
My pain for you and the world,
a sweet singing and a tainted image.
What is means to be truly human.
If time was replayed
I would give more heart, your way.
And through the winters fog and mists,
slow down… breathe deeply and see the whole world… right here.
Some students gave me words,
for me a new delight.
The dark thoughts, the shame and guilt,
that swarm like bees from time- to-time
….. now traded with caution.
Then life can move forward,
never stepping back from fear.
And ghosts do not haunt me, for now.
How it is
My Picture: Reflections on marking work and drinking coffee yesterday.
A Wandering Poet 