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carnet de voyage

Updated: Sep 5, 2023


rainy season

sheets of water

freely traveling

illusion of you are going anywhere

accompanying you wherever you go

adds embellishment to the picture

to the sea

a little blue returns

a little white

egret white

to the sand

starts again

your journey

to anywhere


wherever you go



sun setting on mother river

your boat

whether it's moving upstream


whatever you may think of your boat

of your journey of here and there


if anywhere

is it going

is all left to the flow


what can we know and

what is it we can't

do we know

in the in-between


we are held by a lightness

the moment

eternal blue

where mornings

let go of their shimmer


of their traveler


because disease is unreal

theres's only unreal medicine to cure it

( pai-chang)

cloudy morning in han noi

lost in the maze of city noise

a lone rooster calls

barely audible

sound of flute playing

a block or two away

in the penumbra of this hotel room

beauty and vanity of all your travels

in one breath


teach us to care and not to care

teach us to sit still


you are forgiven for failing to learn

right here

you are closest to nowhere

than you will ever be

that sumptuous palace

home greeting you

wherever you go

raised on the dust of roads

marinated in silence

words that cure


denn bleiben ist nirgends

rilke's verse surges as you

pack you bag to leave han noi

for staying is nowhere

echoes of tachouang-tzi

the one who comes from nowhere

finds dwelling wherever they go

then basho's everyday is a journey

and the journey is home

signposts for pathless travelers

lest they get lost on the way

how could we get lost

if we have no path

said ikkyu

never-ending journey


dreams of coming and going

rise and fall here

rainfall in abundance


their blessings

your innermost self


hua lou

ancient capital

outside the shrine

incense burning


from a wisp of smoke

our leap

into the unknown


die rose ist ohne warum

sie blühet weil sie blühet

the rose is without why

it blooms because it blooms

(angelus silesius)

a graveyard in an

out of the way place

blooming among headstones


not for the living

for the dead not

no one's flowers

out of no why they bloom


your flame

radiance of what just is

shows itself


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