movable bundles

Early in the morning, there are many bundles like this along the street. A movable place of work.
Photo: Wrapped up merchandise, Hong Kong

may we grow

May we all grow.
Today is the birthday of a boy I know.
And the eleventh month since a birth of mine.
Photo: Plants at the Occupy Central site, Hong Kong
Text: Enjoy the day, S and I.

bright is my friend

A friend has died, and I send these flowers,
brightly, because she will always stay in my mind
that way: bright, alive, full, loving, kind.
Photo: Poinsettia, in Hong Kong
Text: For A and F, 1980-2011

heavy feet

Looks like the footstool has gone through,
into the sidewalk, into the earth.
Like someone's life was heavy.
Photo: New Orleans

a-changing

For the times, they are a-changing.
Photo: Lily pads dissolving, Texas

autumnal

Autumnal is a favo(u)rite word, and this feels like autumn,
even though the image is of New Zealand, where it is springtime now.
Photo: Wairarapa, New Zealand

thanks, and give

Today in USA it is Thanksgiving, one of my favo(u)rite holidays there - and in Hong Kong, my loved day is Mid-Autumn Festival. Tonight, I will give a drink to anyone I know at Club 71, one of my living rooms here in this hometown of Hong Kong. And I give thanks to my New Zealand home, to the New Zealand sky.
Photo: Sky over Wairarapa, New Zealand

sometimes sleeping is

Sometimes sleeping alone is a gorgeous thing, and other times... Sometimes he walks in the garden when he is sleepless. And Sleepless is the poem I once wrote:
All night the wind
changes its mind.
Photo: Street pole, Hiroshima

I work here

North Point is where I work. Not sure what we're specifically north of to give us the name, and where the exact point is, but I love being near a ferry pier, a fresh market for fruit and vegetables, a diner with good food and no pretentions, a restful tram line, and a Cantonese opera theatre.
Photo: No Parking sign, New Zealand

pull

I like the boldness here, the proportion of Chinese to
English, and part of me wants to pull
off the remainder of that piece of tape. 
Photo: A recycling container, Hong Kong

lit white

Maybe every museum is a holy place. This one reminds me of the times when we lit white candles on the Tannenbaum.
Photo: Entrance area, LA County Museum of Art

sweet breathing

Last night, I was among trees for a while, that sweet breathing.
Photo: Flower, Waitoke, New Zealand

four people, five thousand people

Today, about five thousand people will walk the hills of Hong Kong. I will be there as they finish their journey.

Every year for the past thirty years, on a weekend in November when the weather gets cooler and the season of goodwill starts picking up its tempo, they do a wonderful thing and walk 100 kilometres. They walk in teams of four, supporting each other along the way.

Text: The opening of an article I wrote for Oxfam Trailwalker,

published today in South China Morning Post, page A15

Photo: Before a ribbon-cutting ceremony, Japan

the ah

Ah, the space. Ah, the lines.
Like the 'Ah' of a poem.
Photo: Chair, New Orleans

warm is the carpenter

The warmth of wood.
Photo: A butcher's board, Hong Kong

marooned

Seventeen years ago, my passport was taken at knifepoint. Nine years ago, the replacement passport was stolen from my home. This morning, a woman punched two holes through my current passport, expiring on its own accord, so for the next little while, I am marooned. Please come and visit me. 
Photo: Pavement somewhere in Texas

what does this look like?

I am guessing you didn't think of a pier.
Photo: Central Piers, Hong Kong

Occupy Hong Kong

Since 15 October, they have been living at HSBC, 1 Queen's Road, Central District. They are living a happy life, they say. They have made a home, with bedrooms (tents), 2 sofas, book shelves, a computer area. Last night they held a community kitchen, with beautiful food brought by friends and supporters. One friend brought a huge organic pomelo grown at Kadoorie Farm. Another, living plants and compost from Lantau. And I, a huge pot of veggie soup from Tai Hang. Today, there's a workshop on how to pickle turnips. The residents will be picking wild plants for their food, and collecting the discarded butts of vegetables from nearby markets.
Photo: A chair on a sidewalk, Hong Kong

yummy

This fruit is like the dragon fruit, but richer flesh, and seeds that crunch.
Photo: I do not know the name of this fruit
Neither does the fruit

one of the best places

Maybe poetry is one of the best places in this country. The clarity and courage, particularizing.
Photo: Street, Northpoint, Hong Kong
Text: Excerpt from an essay in progress
I send very clear wishes for a, d + l who have poetic things on today.

deep full light

Full moon today, full moon tonight.
I think of the saying, 'live lightly,
think deeply.'
Photo: Full moon over Peace Park, Hiroshima
Text: The slogan of Resurgence magazine

very berry

Here, have a berry, it's a very rainy day in Hong Kong.
Photo: Berries by the library, Tai Hang

no worrywart

The flower of St. John's Wort, used to ease depression, looks like the buttercup bloom. And on the inside handle to the front door of my home is the word 'shine', so every time I leave, I say please, try to do just that.
Photo: St. John's Wort, in the garden, New Zealand

1 cat, 365 cats

Today marks a full year of this daily blog.
Every day, I place a photographic image and a handful of sounds, thoughts and other images. For me, this is a place of peace.
As I wrote at the beginning, in 2010 'the first touch' entry, there will be mistakes - some days feel more complete than others.
Here, today, that black blur next to the arc may be a cat.
Photo: The Peace Park, Hiroshima, by night

musical clips

This music lives downstairs from my home.

Photo: Fabric wrapped around a hawker's stall, Tai Hang, Hong Kong

demonstrations: protests of innocence

Demonstrations are protests of innocence...

There is an innocence to be defended and an innocence which must finally be lost: an innocence that derives from justice, and an innocence which is the consequence of a lack of experience.

Photo: Carpark, Hong Kong

Text: John Berger, from his essay, The Nature of Mass Demonstrations, 1968

metal arc, yellow uenuku

There once was a springtime when we saw a rainbow every day. I did not always believe it, and maybe he didn't either.

I know a girl who believes.

She is seven and lives in a house with seventeen cats, do I want one? We are riding a bus from Taupo, and she sings long songs.  She says the wind in the fields is a grass swimming pool, and after the downpour, when the sky turns yellow, she sees a very high 'uenuku'. That's rainbow in Pakeha, she teaches me.

Photo: In the yard, New Zealand

Text: The third paragraph is the beginning of a prose poem.

'Pakeha' is a word for New Zealanders who are not of Maori boodlines.

door and floor and anyway

When I see this door leading into a gymnasium floor, I am reminded of my senior high school, which had an old warped wooden floor we only used for P.E. lessons, not for league games and tournaments. I played one of my best basketball games there anyway.
Photo: Honkawa School, Hiroshima, Japan

I don't know where to look

In this photograph, I don't know where to look. I had to put my camera lens within the wires of a chain-linked fence to take the image, and now that  it is here, the eye runs in several directions.
Photo: A view off a side street, Texas 

November sun

Here, a little sun for November one.
Photo: A new building going up, Hong Kong