DAILY PHOTO: Bibi Ka Maqbara
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POEM: Calamity Came
We heard the sound, distant rumbling. We watched the castles fall, crumbling. The choice of running to the rubble, or staying safe in our bubble. But either way, someway it'd hurt with either hands or head in dirt. Some tragedies are too galactic, and words just sing anticlimactic.
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POEM: Nom de Guerre
They called him "the Emperor of Pain," the they who didn't know his real name, a name that was comically disjointed to his reputation, a name that was to this man as that gentle lisping voice is to Mike Tyson, and so they gave him that ridiculous name, and he became both more and less than what he really was.
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DAILY PHOTO: Cattle, an Udaipur Mural
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POEM: Finding Your Zen through Travel [PoMo Day 30 – Epigram]
I Pray for smooth travels... but not too smooth; bad experiences make good stories. II Mother nature is the kind of mother who doesn't play favorites. III Fairness and simplicity are fine, but the solution that works may be neither. IV Difficulties only ruin trips attitudinally doomed. V Think of lost luggage as an exercise in creative decision making.
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POEM: Don’t Tease the Monkeys
Hey, naked baby macaque, who stole the hair off of your back, but left you that blocky hairdo? Perhaps, you didn't think your look through?
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DAILY PHOTO: The Osario, Chichen Itza
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POEM: The Fair Midway [PoMo Day 29 – Symbolist]
midways announce themselves at a distance jangly music discords with organ toots arc lamp light and spastic dancing colors but i find myself there dream-style swift my disorientation is complete i can't tell color from sound / it's all loud nothing is in focus because all is in motion neon red is a shard of electronic music my eyes dart about looking to rest on something painless my ears try to hold just one tune from the cacophony twinkly music runs my spine as I wonder how a god could deal with all the voices, all those voices, at once
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POEM: Mask of the Introvert [PoMo Day 28 – Confessional]
I vibrate wariness at the approach of strangers, and have a face within my Janus repertoire that is labeled: "off-putting." An approaching stranger, having passed by those cues, will -- at some point -- realize something is off, as if I'm holding my breath 'til the conversation's end - but not that, precisely At any rate, they will yield to whatever it is, in due time. [Maybe, I seem contagiously itchy.] Remarkably, I went decades without realizing any of this. To be fair, I never get a good look at myself at the moment I'm meeting a stranger. [And, if I did, I wouldn't have the brainpan bandwidth to do anything with the information.] Now, I'm training myself to behave elsewise, but the score is still 50 years to 1.
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DAILY PHOTO: Sapelo Island Lighthouse
Tiger Riding for Beginners 