What is a page

What is a poem

What is a like

The sky was like a bell jar

What is that

What is a mason jar

What is a flea

What is desk or a glass coffee table

What is a word

And yes

What is a name

Of course you have that one

What is a name

What is a battle

What is a wellspring

What is a hoard and what is a safe

What is it you’re trying to do

What is a sacred artifact

What makes an artifact

What is happening

What is a piano

What is an ox

What a time

What a gift

What a sea

What a blue

What a vast blue bell jar sea

I won 17 Hong Kong Bucks. I am not in Hong Kong. I bought a big beer. Now I am a professional gambler.

oh yeah, and...

"I vow to wake the beings of the world. I vow to set endless heartache to rest. I vow to walk through every wisdom gate. I vow to live the great Buddha way. "

This 30-m Buddha holds ashes of bodies, for some reason. If you visit it, you will be cursed with bad luck. So no one likes to visit it except unknowing foreigners, like ourselves. I think it might be Dr. Evil's headquarters. There's a window in his belly button!

I keep thinking each acting role i have will be the culmination of my career...but then something like this always happens. To summarize: the butt of the long thing, the gout, the girl laughing uncontrollably on stage as Angela and i are enveloped by smoke during Quixote's To Dream the Impossible Dream, and now.... George the Sloth, knocked down by an annoying parrot in the Rainbow Time play for the Cornel Halloween party.

One more thing before I forget this blog exists for a little while:

Linger (Frank Stanford):

The moon wanders through my barn
Like a widow heading for the county seat

It's not dark here yet
I'm just waiting for the bow hunters
So I can run them off

They put out licks on my land
Every summer

When it gets cool the animals are tame

I've fallen asleep
In the trees before

I dreamed someone's horse
Had wandered out on the football field
To graze
And I was showing children through a museum

The bow hunters make their boys
Pull the deer's tongue out bare-handed

At dusk when I hear an arrow
Coming through my field like a bird
I wonder what men have learned
From feathers

The animals wade the creek
And eat blackberries
The wind blows through the trees
Like a woman on a raft