Now I am familiar
Making sense of my surroundings

My life is like this

I drink because of this

I can’t sleep because of this

But this is too simple
Cause and effect
No longer engaged with my life

Each moment
A cloud of absence

Now I want to meet the morning sun
Another day of bringing in the moment

At least I won't recall the names and faces of these sad occasions.

Today I went to the top of the world.
And met two monks
Empty of everything except themselves.
The sky a seamless part of it.
With pleasant walks, food and talk at will.
Our only dreams of words forgotten.

And there in the margins
An interval between wars
I saw a black bird
As black as those that bled in a Shanxi
mine.
Darkness evolved into perfection
Mountains within mountains,
Something like a maze.

"Go back to the dark and grimy alleys of Manchester" the monks told me.

And now, in my returning dream, I see tides of people falling through the siege.

They told me rain is rare in Dunhuang
and that sleeping dogs lie.

But today it rained.
And the dogs yearn for carnal pleasure in cheap hourly rooms.

The coffee bars are empty now and the dogs like me, indulge in living and could not care less what life was for.

It all begins with love, but not love tied to a tree.

I told  the dogs that it is easy to find reasons to satisfy your libido, they said nothing matters after.

So now I write down seductive, inconsequential words. And the dogs are free to find a blank space.

It is 20:17 in Dunhuang, at least CCTV 13 says so.
I met a girl called 'Mathilda'

She offered me some Chicken soup.
And we talked about Jean Reno.

I asked her " Is it possible that a plant can be a friend?"
She smiled and told me that '"The killer is not so cold"

Today I went for coffee at M.Gateau's
'Yesterday Once More' was on the radio
Children running around in pink shirts,
twins I think.
Few elements of distrust.

I met a woman who knew about Karen Carpenter
Filled with fear at every bite she took
A deceitful relationship.

I met a man who said stars will fall from heaven
He told me he dreamt of missed connections
And misheard echoes of the past.

I met an old solider who said he had fought at Jarama
And tried to teach the children that he was not untrue.
I asked him about the death of Spain.

In another place - a place different from this
It would be easy to shut my eyes to war.

But then who would care for the children who have forgotten their dolls? And the poor who travel by night under the gaze of the great bear?

It is my choice to open my eyes and see the reflections in the mirror. The cursed indifference of all those who do nothing whilst  parents worry about their children dancing strange steps.

Now I show my fist until the pain has passed into time's earth.
And the lonely man can dance without rhythm.

Last night I dreamt that I had a conversation with Stephen
Hawking, at least I think it was a dream?

I asked him about the history of time in Taiyuan
He said that “The earth is brittle and the scent of the past heavy”

I wanted to know about black holes.

But he kept talking about people who hold out their hands to nothing at all. And how narrow space was in this place.

So we went for a walk by the Fen.
And talked about the death of an English country on a Chinese road.

This seemed huge.

I felt the warmth of the winter sun and saw people that could not rise.

He asked me “Why did I come to teach here if I had worries about the weather?’

I woke up and wondered if we had communicated at a higher level?

I have a Chinese friend that needs to go into hospital today.

She smiles everyday and hides her December gleam in the cold Taiyuan mornings.

But I know she is worried.

Now she needs to catch the courage in her eyes.

So last night I prayed for her.

And told her that one in never alone in a fight.

There is always a light that never goes out.

Ms Tong, a friend, was helping me today.
Few would.
I said to her " the only way out is through"
Robert Frost said this.
She smiled
" The painful slog through is necessary to come to the end"
She said this.

Listening to  LCD Soundsystem.
and marking your work is not easy for me.

Their music resonates with your words.

The hypnotic sounds in 'All my Friends'.

Now I know you can think on a quite night

Transported to a place in which I am all wrapped
Not tight
Just a place
It is where it starts.

Soon I will come to the end of my journey
and another statue will disappear.
But you see you cannot **** the sculptor
Only hire the black priest to wash away your sins.

Your unkind words mean nothing to me
Life runs through your fingers like white sand
and many unborn days disturb your mindfulness.
The black priest cannot help you.

I sing to the same stars in Taiyuan
that I once sang to in Albacete with the Brigada Abraham Lincoln.
Then the Spanish people grieved for our going.
You only grieve for the shade of the evening
And the silence of the Fen river.

This morning I talked with a professor about Kant, the 'highest good' and 'moral motivation'.
Last week only the Marxist stood by me as the dogs of Shanxi barked out stories of unrequited love.
They say the  sun  can do strange things to a man. No stranger things than here in Taiyuan.
So I asked the professor if there are limitations to happiness. He said 'happiness is about faith'
So I went and told the Marxist about the sun, Kant and happiness

I met two snowmen in Taiyuan today.
At least they told me they were snowmen.
To be honest I was not sure.

We talked about the snow, the stars and bullet trains to Beijing.
The one with the hat did most of the talking he grew moody and distant  as the snow fell.

I wondered about the depth  of a snowman's life.
The quite one asked me about my life. I was about to answer,
when he told me he had once told his life he wanted space.

The snowman with the hat then asked me
" Do you think consciousness only exists when the snow falls?"
I knew then the rain would come soon.

How strange to see Kurt Cobain
In a Taiyuan Coffee Bar
War marched through my mind
I wanted to ask him
How he addressed the fog
How to treat the ghosts
Time and space describe
Nothing

I heard that AC/DC are playing at Yingze Park
For all those about to rock
I went to the park
The sky was grey
The dark smoke from the chimneys was  grey
The river was grey
In the deepening dusk
The whole earth was shrouded in grey
I closed my eyes
Angus in his uniform
The crowd shouting “Angus, Angus, Angus”
Light in the gathering dusk
Brightness of the future world.
I opened my eyes
I was back in black.

The barren soil of Taiyuan
grows rich with silent souls.
A foreign darkness fills the
empty streets.
And only the moon betrays this
unfamiliar scene.
We refused to *****  through the
half-lit mornings by Yingze Park
Or give our voice to the midnight
air. Our shadows are not articulate in
silence. They are infused with life and are
not alone.