You guys really messed up that message-
Do you have the postage? Addresses?

The records & reports
For what you purport?
Are all the passages
Just rewritten, or
Pages overwritten?
Perhaps overlooked?

No longer properly understood?

Is the truth lurking out there,
Somewhere?
Buried under heaps of rubble,
Covered by mud & dirt.

Wipe the muck off.

Through the weeds & brush,
Thorn & thrush,
Slash the vine & burn the bush;
Get looking.

Spider spider, apple cider
Bench on old worn dusty paths
Crawling, sprawling and appalling
Inch closer to the whole and halfs

Peter Peter or and either
Both trees overlook the gloom
Ready steady toss the eddies
A week is weaker or too soon

Giver giver, baby critters
days adrifting off the web
Laughter after, doesn't matter
Eight long and prickly little legs

Earth comes out of its greenroom

I bend at the window
looking through the glass
down upon its vastness

something out there is wrong

the future's not what it used to be
a shadow tells me

I feel mysterious today
a stranger to myself
I don't recognize my voice

objects outlive us
but we are more than an accident of stars
someday we will be infinite
breaking into the distance

by serene velocity
by delicate transitions

bringing us closer
to a renewed interest in happiness

I walk these streets, silent and still,
Faces pass by, each chasing their will.
No words I offer, no call, no cheer,
In their worlds, they dwell—so far, so near.

Let them wander where their visions lie,
Beneath the same vast Nepali sky.
Dreams of theirs I do not intrude,
For in my quiet, I find my mood.

Am I rude to pass and not engage?
Or just a soul, freeing their stage?
Each moment they craft, I let it unfold,
A mosaic woven in threads untold.

Beneath these hills, in Kathmandu's grace,
I honor their rhythm, their time, their space.
For in this stillness, I see more clear—
A bond unspoken, yet ever near.

Let their paths shine, let them be,
As I journey within, just silently.
Nepali hearts, vast and deep,
In quiet respect, their space I keep.

I saw you sitting underneath
the train stop awning, curled up
like a comma, trying to punctuate
the end of this already miserable day

As the rain dropped like pellets
from spilled bird seed
covering your surroundings in
reflections of what you can't see

Water splashes from the passing tires
in search of a new refuge
akin to your unfurling gaze
now staring back at mine