Tales from the Field

I was hit by a car again. This time it hurt my shoulder.
That makes it four times I have been hit by a car.
I wonder if I will survie the next time…I’m counting
twenty-five near death experiances so far. I thinking about filling
out a  will.

Someone asked me how I felt because I have been so close
to death so many times. Had it change the way
I live my life, feel, and think about God.
I thought for a moment and replied I was born to die.
It doesn’t matter how it happens it is the connections
that we make in this life that makes it worth living.
Then I silently vomitted in my mouth
for being so like a Halmark card.

Here in China every corner, every nook and yes the cranny
there is a story that is unfolding. When walking around town or
it feels like you just missed something. Sometimes I hold my
breath and can all most see it. But than of course if you hold your
breath too long you forget about what is happening right in front of
you.

As I recall Hell boy 2 has a cool puppet intro: basically about how
humans have a hole in there heart which they fill with  XYZ…
I thought about what I had absorbed in College and then forgot.
All the cultures I studied would prove this
Dark Horse mass media cow intestine correct.

The hole human hearts have…

What do you fill your heart with?
I like to fill mine with gravy just
in case I have mashed potatoes for dinner.

more pics coming…

What do you think of my new glasses

I asked as I stood under a shade tree

before the joined grave of my parents

and what followed was a long silence

that descended on the rows of the dead

and on the fields and the woods beyond,

one of the hundred kinds of silence

according to the Chinese belief,

each one distint from the others,

buth the differences being so faint

that only a few special monks

wereable to tell one from another

they make look scholarly

I heard my mother say

once I lay down on the ground

and pressed an earinto the soft grass.

Then I rollled over and pressed

my other ear to the ground,

the ear my father likes to speak into,

byt he would say nothing

and I could not find a silence

among the one hundred Chinese Silences

that would fit one that he created

even though I was one

who had just  made up the business

of the one hundred Chinese silences-

The Silence of the Night Boat

and the Silence of the Lotus,

cousin to the Silence of the Temple Bell

only deeper and softer, like petals, at its farthest edges.

-Billy Collins