Tai Chi Straight Sword Love



(I've always loved magnetic poetry. My head comes up with sketches that differ from the usual imagery, as I am limited to the words available, but once I have a flow and general idea, I find it comes easily. And in these "sketches" up above are embodied everything I love about old cities - the traditions and older buildings blended with the pace of modern life. I love being able to see the slow ferries take cars and people across, how the process has not changed much in decades, and then turning around to see the glistening glass windows of high risers lead up to the sun. Cars rush by, or wait impatiently in traffic while pedestrians weave their way through the cars from one side of the street or another. It's the rush culture I hate, but if I choose, I can indulge in the freedom of anonymity, willingly disappearing into a crowd, or I can sit in a café with a notebook, just a spectator, another face, creating stories from the mental snapshots of the life that passes by my table. And that's exactly what magnetic poetry is - a collection of words that are fragments of a place or a theme, and from that we reconstruct them into snapshots but never full scenes.)

the season is
but a crowd culture poet

historic waves have
steeped in a day

tell him to get
a postcard
and drive the autumn fog
by a vineyard

old ferry music
takes the beat of my café