Mask Eats Face

Namaste ghosts, spirts, shamans and dancing dream manifestations...

Little Voice

Where do I place it, these words?

What country continent city village town or heartbeat?

A heartbeat is a universe of possibilities.

Simple like a breath.

She asked him, Do you like small? Skin on skin?

Yes, kneading her shoulder muscles, easing out tissue from her supine sublime spinal chord erasing tension. Her smile said, Yes. Her relaxation exhaled.

She spoke with hand wings. Short, fast and deadly.

She dreamed writing a short story, a poem, flash fiction.

She selected a pen. She unscrewed the black ebony summit. She opened a black notebook. She made a pot of green tea. She started with flowing calligraphy letters.

My life began in a village. I don't need to leave my village. My village is the world.

She drew a picture. It looked like this.

Tourists find, travelers discover.

Traffic sign - Slow Children...

Lightning bolts - blue butterfly, white sky, green flowers, red leaves, songs of invisibility, piano shadow.

How do you spell loss?

Memory contains an entire world.

A blind painter paints from memory. A blind writer. A blind poet.

She weaved words with yellow laughter.

A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.

A dreamer with active imagination.

Little voice.

 

Lombok, Indonesia