My picture…my gift.
Slow drift of winter
Love Poems
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.
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.
Last night it rained,
then there were stars.
A ceaseless weaving
of a winter echo.
The water fell together,
as the moon dissolved.
Bleeding its light,
the thickness quite
with still intent.
You flickered,
I could not touch you.
Just enough of the rain,
to bring the smell back.
From those stolen moments
and flaming fornications.
Nothing, so lonely
My Picture: Coffee and Bukowski’.
The young girl said to me
“you look lonely”
I thought it was a strange way to say hello.
We looked around, at mind’s swirling with noise and nothing to say.
And street dogs
tailing with low self-esteem,
losing one-by-one.
With the red moon hanging low over a winter cityscape,
I told her
“go and ask them how lonely they feel in the cold of night”
And, “that beauty can be fake”.
Bai Juyi’s Dream
My Picture: Taken on Christmas Day, Xinxiang , China
An icebox wind
clumping across the frozen
city streets.
Whipping across my face,
to let my memories go.
A guarded path,
no longer anchored.
Allow new melodies
to break from old tracks lost.
Christmas Eve
My Picture: Words have magic….
A messenger delivers
and everything I feel.
Big stories, with small bottom lines.
The quite boy with the simple smile.
He never knows what to say
to his mother, who is never satisfied.
The girl with the straight ‘A’s
who does not want to be a doctor,
and hides a dark family secret.
The old man hiding the pain
and fire inside,
consumed by ill-fate and
dragging himself from day-to-day.
A woman who told me
her husband had not kissed
her for eight years…….She
was beautiful.
A cautious loner
who once was a king.
Now he drinks each day,
and shouts at the moon.
Everybody’s searching for them,
everybody’s consumed by them
…and my story?
My eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul….
Sailing on the yellow river
My Picture: I held a small Christmas Party tonight….a gift from a students mother….
Before the winter fire
and shrill midnight cries.
I craved nothing.
Then the hunters silence
and fickle friends leaving,
surrounded my bones.
At the brink
an unseen bird sang
from the tree shadow.
I knew then of the road
not yet taken,
and some of the silence is me.
Winter solstice
http://www.theepochtimes.com: Winter Solstice in China today.
When awake in the dark mornings,
a heart pounding and star frost outside.
I think of the sun, now turned away.
A vague mood momentarily out of shape
and living fast.
Each light stings and spins,
trying to rebalance the
the dark and light at the same time.
One continuous line dragging
each damp filled day from morning to dusk.
The hope…..
that light will return,
once more eager for sensation and meaning.
A pearl veil of day….with a laughing soul.
The language of medicine
My Picture: The end of the flowers…..
A Wandering Poet 