and again i write into the night . hurricanes roar, days won't end i am sick to death of commerce and fear of dying someone called me from Burma today, mayanmar both names showed up on my bombasted phone where my number had be grabbed by the greedy one guy had an Indian accent my heart was not ready for international wonderings today i would like to afford a renewed passport so at least i could make it over the border into Canada should the whim arrise they'll put a chip in this time to find or hunt me down for some imagined tresspass or to save me is what they say i mistrust the greedy powerful, well not all but most a wealthy athlete gave away 150 million bucks today his face looked kind i think he didn't want another Katrina, but with global warming the opportunities will abound I think, don't know but guess in our one room rental i sit at the card table far from home, but remeber to be grateful for dry ground and a roof though i do not like what happens here i see the deep poverty and sorrow all around me, feel the bigger call to do something i don't know what but guess at compassion in action where it finds me it is night and someone called me from Burma today. i couldn't afford to answer, but it's there recorded Iphones do that take us way past ourselves clikidy clak the keys tap out a message maybe just that i am here trying to know how to help, i am here anyway, i write into the night of hurricanes and sorrow, i write love letters to this world to the piece or peace that i am I write love letters into the night
Advertisements
