The gate faced the sea. It seemed like a strange place for a gate. The sea spray of crashing waves flew up to douse those who passed through. Which way was in? Which way was out? And then I accepted that "in" & "out" were meaningless constructs, and that it was a portal between infinities.
out of my cell & onto the trail i walk the vast expanse, the vault of heaven above & hills of rolling green beneath my feet and clouds barge through blue skies like thoughts barge through my mind - sluggishly but inevitably
blood runs to the gutters, flowing and whirling, a sluicing pink juice that circles and sloshes down the drain most did not feel the missing blood, but it came from each and every one of them - the locals, the exiled, the travelers, and the ne'er-do-wells - all bled into the city, and something grew from that protein slurry most contributed only drips & drops, but some hemorrhaged, giving their liquid selves for something they couldn't anticipate
densely packed stands of pine, the dark green insinuating black shadow set against the verdant grassy meadows and shaggy scrubland it makes the mountain look angular, with sharp edges pounded into shape the pine-writ shadows steal depth, suggesting absence, creating the impression of emptiness, a false void... or so it seems
long autumn shadows stretch across the pavement and it might just be that everything has stretched out time and thought and hope and love and life and mystique all smeared across the day like shadows smear across the ground it's a slowing of the mundane as the mood grows sadder winter's melancholy is moving on the wing
with each breath and each step you feel yourself merge with the world pulling the outside in pressing into the planet each breath brings oxygen used by Buddha or Socrates grit granules that were part of mighty mountains press into your flesh or become your bones the world flows through you as you flow through the world
a city of the dead tunneled under the living, awaiting the flip, a shift in who's who -the living & the dead, -the dead & the living -the alive and the existent -the living dead & those dying alive all jumbled together in a sea of inhumanity, tumbling past each other, scrambling for humanity - for the breath of life, for life in a breath the musty scent of decay in the living city was the first sign... those in the necropolis smelled flowery scents -- clean and bright -- and found those fragrant perfumes as revolting as the living found the rot stench in the brief time it took to become acclimated to the stink, all found themselves in the churn, struggling for more of something they didn't understand
fogged in at a teahouse, a growing gray of view, this world lacks sharp lines, excepting the hint of: -a sloping roofline & -a building's corner these lines are sharp relative to the amorphous gray; but fuzzy compared to the same line's clarity on a blue sky day now, they're blurred, as if the village had been painted by a skilled - but lazy - painter, a sumi-e master with a melancholy soul
a steady rain patters into puddles far below i close my eyes, listening for a pattern but it's chaotic - a random rhythm that tugs at my eyelids, lulling me into a dull state of mind
a discard pile of lifelines - money & pseudo-money - technologies & redundancies some donated, some burnt, & some left to be found by the willing & the grateful he walked with a cloak, a staff, a satchel, & a bowl he walked until it hurt & kept walking until his prided died then took what was given & lived without what wasn't everything beyond food, water, & air became a burden while finding food, water, space, & the means of cleanliness became the sum of all endeavors the terror-bliss barrier took time to break down, but when it did... how free he was
Tiger Riding for Beginners 