I ran into a seeker from far lands,
and asked him what he sought in my hometown.
He said he sought what's true and beautiful.
I asked him if it was here, more than his home?
"Sometimes you have to walk a thousand miles
to find that which resides beneath your nose.
To unlock truth, the tumblers must align
from the shake of experience and time."
Bougainvilleas,
densely blossomed,
nonplussed by rain clouds.
The forest is parted by a line of asphalt. Speeding cars send leaves fluttering. Everything that crosses that road is imperiled by someone's need to get nowhere quickly.
the liquid world
merges with the earth,
and both are one.
Autumn breeze and then a lag and then leaves fall slantwise.
boats glide across the lake, barely faster than the sun drops.
brain numb. voice dumb. a wicked harmonic builds in the core - tuned to volcanically vibrant skies. flash fires of feeling riffle through the body. the tone dials into a whine that bursts into a scream.
the well-groomed garden holds nature at bay, only through constant effort.
An English painter named Richard Dadd went completely stark raving madd. He stayed in asylums - Broadmoor to Bedlam. For stabbing to death his dear old dadd.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 