The center of China is mud

All day, dust lands on Hubei

The center of China is mud

He sits by a field of lotus stalks

Where a whole lake disappears to haze

He walks to The Long River in the rain

Where a man curls up under the army pier

He ponders through a museum

Where a dynasty fell

All day, his words finger the air

To see if they can live

And as the day deepens, he begins to sing

Tonight, in his poem, there is more space

Photo: Entrance and parking lot of a new museum, Shandong, China

Text: 'The Center', written for a friend from Wuhan, in Hubei, China

I know these clouds

A man walks into a room, sees

this photograph, and says,

'I know these clouds. It's Paris.'  

Photo: Scaffolding nets, rooftop, Centre Pompidou
The image is part of my 'delicate access' series,
exhibited in Hong Kong, Tokyo, Singapore

like a man I want to love

I took this image near a train line in southwest USA,

around midday, as I recall, but the mood reminds me

of late winter in China, and the poem 'North',

which starts, 'milky air / silent plains /

it could be snow / this might be another country....

and the train hums like a man I want to love'.

Yesterday, I boarded a northbound train in New Zealand, disembarking ninety minutes later, in darkness.

I watched the headlights of the train search north.

Farther, farther.

Photo: A backyard in New Mexico 
Text: Click here to read the whole poem 'North'
but I have since changed the ending to 'and snow has landed'