Spring

One Kampot morning  
Dawn struggles to create music hearing
 Brooms dance with dust as Khmer and Vietnamese women
Bent like branches in strong wind

Hover over leaves, discarded fruit skins
Memories
Bird songs
Night dreams
Sweeping swish a wish
Rain glorious soft smooth clear rain

Cloud tears echo silence
Calm way
Spring speaks laughter
Cool sky jazz

Water imagination seeds with bliss & gratitude

Diamonds reflect a universe on bamboo leaf

In a Brave New World you shift from truth and beauty to comfort and happiness.
I ate civilization.

Breath brain 157 neurons
Attention arousal
Mortar pestle music
Rhythm kids
Chatter with mom on crutches

Reality is a crutch
Steaming gleaming aluminum containers
Meat, eggs, vegetables, soups, rows of BBQ fish, sausage

Smoke curls from charcoal flames
Backpack tourists avoid motorcycle mama mayhem

Little boys with little toys all 125cc
At the speed of light

Be light about it
Blind female masseuse meditates in a green room
A slow steady rain falls
Clean air smells good

A single star,

flickering out in the universe,

is enough to fill the mind, but it is nothing in the night sky.

Grow Your Soul

Author Page

Kindness

clowns decorate random acts of kindness

with the gravity of tenderness

look and leave people dance

as death

chases them through life

go go go

Mont Blanc rollerball stands tall purple thin strong
Tell me about the frugal gambling foreigners investing in Kampot

the sleepy little town with corroding French architecture

How Italian, French and German expats describe their passion

for becoming along rivers of life with restaurants, bars, movie theatre of the fantastic

OM Hindu therapeutic Moringa powdered elixirs, guesthouses with miniature golf hole in one, pepper plantations, organic yoga retreats, sunset river boat cruises
opportunities for physically challenged humans signing

“Hello” as blind masseurs knead muscles trekked out

after paying Chinese casino gambling debts hiking through deep unconscious jungles

hearing silent footsteps of serene orange robed boy monks

meditating on compassion chant sutras in gratitude

Pure mind: illusion

Create

Imagination

Experiment

Dream

Play

Smiling makes you happy

Be happy for no reason

Your compassion is greater than your fear

Grow Your Soul

Author Page

World as illusion

Kampot ceremony
70,000 years of pointillism
 
Walking makes the road
 
Khmer wedding music clanging symbols
Yellow silk accompanies jackhammers
In a brave new world

Mawlamyine, Burma

*
 
Pure mind Buddhism - world as illusion
 
How’s this for coincidence chance fate
You walk to market
Past a massage place greeted by seated smiling woman named Cosmos
Connection strong married two kids 14/5

used to run her own place until husband said no

now p/t for sister needing help
Delight intensity oral pleasure friendly and communicative
 
A few poetic words about Kampot morning
Energies
Frequencies
Transmissions
Cool fresh dawn breeze
Swift lets in kitchen prepare bird nest soup using saliva
 
Boys tear down wedding celebration immaterial
after food conversations song dance concert
celebrations in narrow park garden
red bunting where

loud happiness

spills into a brown river below green silent mountains
 
Funky second-hand shop discovers Burmese

cheroot aha flashback to Mandalay market purveyor of rolled leaves

Mawlamyine, Burma

*
 
Dancing possibilities in Kampot dawn
Delicious stream-of-consciousness
Be invisible little angel of light
Have mercy becoming Wushu meditation
Comedy
 
Chanting monks flame orange voices
Ageless Vietnamese woman pushes wheeled trash treasures
Her spine curves toward tomorrow’s promise
Mystery light
Sensation perception intuitive
 
Line
Shape
Shading
Discernment
Detachment
Calligraphy
Breath
Line pressure
Sign language

Riding the rails in Burma - 2015

Grow Your Soul - Poems and Prose from Laos & Cambodia

Write

“Write naked. That means to write what you would never say.

“Write in blood. As if ink is so precious you can't waste it.

“Write in exile, as if you are never going to get home again and you have to call back every detail.”

-    Denis Johnson

22

Out past massage girls waiting with white sheets on brown tables under red umbrellas resting on golden sand as floppy hatted cuticle management women walking sand looking for needy nails,

lost fat White Russians slathered on UV 30+ staring inland at young backpackers their eyes down on phones fingers flying TEXT ME lonely baby of my heart soul mind rapture

one lone swimmer back strokes in calm blue green water as a small boat engine hums toward a green forested is-land floating away on the surface of reality inside a dream bubble laughing in the divine mystery

Imagination

Observation

Experience

Present moment

Ink me laughter

Waves light nature's song

Riding a beam of light through space

Tribal energies

1 M

Magic wave light

Wushu movement

Yangon Burma brass bell

Signifies

Present Moment

7

Otres to Kampot adventure

Memory of old yellow hospital

Slow easy corroding iron bridge connects land

Between an object and a concept

Between knowledge and wisdom

French architecture remembers history, families, whispers eyes

Stories inside stories

Where I polished The Language Company at Epic Arts (9-12 a.m.)

& Bliss guesthouse (3-6 p.m.) daily for five months once upon a time

Zen butterfly in slow river town

How's it feel this gentle Tao?

Karen’s touch with conversation’s widow

Splits profits with mama san running the game near old market

Fancy pants decor, tourist souvenirs

Abandoned Art Deco movie theatre

Ha

Feels good exploring Kampot dust

Sensing the transitory beauty

Peace

Secret

Strength

Life

Love

Sorrow

Multiple Selves - We

Keep your own counsel

Poetry is what happens when nothing else can

It’s what you find in the corner

Circus people live on the edge

Sunset swift lets fill orange sky with magic

Mental hypothalamus

Unconscious

Grow Your Soul - Poems from Laos & Cambodia

How many more full moons will you see?

Kalapuya

The Kalapuya, a Pacific Northwest tribe speaking Penutian numbered 3,000 in 1780. They believed in nature guardian spirits and vision quests. Their shamans, amp a lak ya taught them how seeking, discovering and following one’s spirit or dream power and singing their song was essential in their community.

An ancestor shared a dream story.

“I speak in tongues, in ancient dialects about love. I share a story of our people living here for 8,000 years before where you are now. In forests, rivers and mountains all animal spirits welcome you with their love. They are manifestations of your being.

“I am grateful to welcome you here. You walked many paths of love to reach me. Some are narrow and smooth in places, wide and rocky in others. I am the soil under your feet. I feel your weight, balance, weakness and strength. I hear your heart beating as our ancestor pounds ceremonial drums. I feel the surging force of your breath fly through this forest. Wind accepts your breath. I am everything you see, smell, taste, touch and hear. I am the oak, fir and pine in your outer landscape. I am your inner landscape. I see you stand silent hearing trees nudge each other, ‘Look, one has returned.’”

“I love the way you absorb the song of a brown thrush collecting moss for a nest. I am the small brown bird saying hello. I am the sweet-throated song you hear without listening. Two night owls sing. Their music fills your ears with mystery and love.

“I am the warm spring sun on your face filtered through leaves of time. I am the spider’s web dancing diamond points of light. I am the rough fragile texture of bark you remove before connecting axe edge with wood. You carry me through this forest. Your flame creates the fire of love. I am the taste of pitch on your lips, the forest scent in your nostrils filling your lungs. It is sweet.

“I am cold rain and wet snow and hot sun and four seasons. I am the yellow, purple, red, blue, and orange flower from brown earth. I am an old dialect of Kalapuya tribes. I respect spirit energies. I hear with my eyes and see with my ears. I understand your love for the spirit power guardian.

“I am your ancestor speaking 300 languages from our long history. Now only 150 dialects remain. Language cannot be separated from who you are and where you live.

“I say this so you will remember everything in this forest. I took care of this place and now your love has the responsibility.”

ART

Adventure, Risk, Transformation - A Memoir

Annapurna Range, Nepal