pen fountain

Sublime beauty near and far
golden butterflies
bamboo homes rolling hills golden rust colored
labor in fields waving raving children

urination

copious food sources, roses

Staring at a writer sitting in tea place cold morning
broken lights curious faces, voices whisper
is doing this
being flowing

“pen fountain” said a laughing boy
standing on a cement slope all the men staring at this transit tori process

The market is excellent.
No foreigners enter hilly labyrinth of morning. A source of fascination.
Zen of sitting nourishment. Monks barefoot meditation. An open hand holds everything. 
Burning coals. Tea.  Fractured light flowing energies.

Character is action.
Tell me a story. At the train stop in Hsipaw 24 lost european souls pulled on their acts

wasted the way onto shoulders
descended to the platform
unloaded packs into tuk-tuk for Golden Dragon hotel.

They took self declined fake images and left.

The lone traveler stayed on the train. It rolled north. The conductor walked through the empty car. He stopped at an empty seat, collected empty plastic water bottles, chopsticks, food wrappers, Styrofoam containers, dreams, nightmares and fantasies mixed with rising expectations, desires and needs.
He dropped everything out an open window.

The train rolled through night.

Train to Lashio

Ride the rails sixteen hours north

click clack click clack click clack
nature visions bamboo forests
silver rivers
feeling fresh air

hanging out the door of a rock’n roll train
rail alliteration starts at 4 AM.

Stars open sky

A red shaped leaf
fields of lilacs purple black and gold, butterflies,
sense of stillness, renewal of the free rolling spirit,
yellow bamboo leaves at lower elevations, then green exploding higher lush gardens, fir, pine..

Fields being planted
Women and men and children hoeing,  watering, turning soil
Say yes to everything.

The hard scrabble reality similar to northern Laos, oxen, weathered faces,

wood homes thatch, small train station shops in the middle of nowhere,

women loading loading baskets of greens vegetables,

men timber and iron on board
teens shuffle loads of wood from dirt into a train car door
Spaces race long lonely whistle blasts.

20 German Italian Japanese Australian tourists & senior citizens – ugly idiots on train platforms snap Burmese people no interaction real true relationship
attitudes behavior selfish selfies T Bow exit. 
Farewell my lovely.

The lone stranger rides the last four hours to Lashio. 

experience. imagination. write.

"They symbolize the alternatives of hope & despair to which mankind is forever subjected."

The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer. - Keysey

Write. Experience. Imagination. Observation. The wilderness.

A novel: the bear and the dog.

Class and style. Let it run. Let it go w/o perverting it.

I am a shaman. A storyteller feels the wonder.

Chained to the earth to pay for the freedom of eyes.

Here it is all free and easy w/o any sense of past or future.

When the young girl in the java/tea shop began crying all the old men shut up.

Her wails penetrated their distant half-buried, half remembered memories of loss and fear.

Two million grinning Khmer Rouge skulls said here we are.

In 20 words or less communicate: sense of character. feel of a room. action.

After the excellent full body massage he came out singing, "give me your funny papers."

Mindfulness.

 

happy language animal

Your nature is to be happy.

I am a needle. Words are the threads.

Metaphors. Neologism - (new word phrase)

Where are you from?

I am from the universe, said the blind man.

During the day I am a gravedigger. At night, a prostitute.

It is the endless story.

I am in the world but not of it. 

I am a lone wolf. Predator. Instinct.

A language animal. Meaningless.

illusion of truth and drama

The big general picture (floodlight)

The small specific picture (spotlight)

Sleeping alone is boring, said Sunflower, a blind masseuse in Kampot.

The blind man plays a flute.

His young son leads him through life.

Music guides their quest.

Mindfulness, breathe, ease god out.

On the meridian of time there is no injustice; there is only the poetry of motion creating the illusion of truth and drama.