180 Travel poems

It is pleasant, very pleasant, to sit at a wooden booth surrounded by parrots, wheels, right-turning conch shells, the victory banner and the endless knot, the lotus, the treasure vase, the golden fishes— is this not so? Is it not pleasant to sip Tsingtao beer, or Zhujiang, or Yanjing, and tap your fingers on the bamboo mats? After we’ve drunk enough, there will be Buddhist Delight, Mongolian beef side dishes, a whole host of sauces, even some pizza and chicken wings if children are present, as well as the small ice-cream machine, lotus paste, pears, smiles and bows all around. It is pleasant, is it not, to linger outside the door that opens to the parking lot of this small strip mall beside this secondary road and look upon the scattered cars all come to rest here like boats in China, floating on a quiet evening tide.

What we can say has already been said about each painting in the gallery— about the quality of light, the way she holds her head. So we are silent in the subway, silent in bed. Our bodies too are mute; we fall asleep knowing what we could say has already been said. Over toast and coffee and the newspaper thoroughly read the day unfolds between us. I am too weak to carry this quality of light, the way she holds her head. I would vow to leave if love had left if this were the wedding of two gypsies. But what should I say? It has been said the dead would properly bury the dead and here I am, alive at last and buried by the quality of light, and the way she holds her head. Perhaps women, sex, love are all over-rated. Which of us is the artist and which the light? You see, the words I might say have been better said— words concerning the quality of light, the way you hold your head.

“Philadelphia isn’t as bad as Philadelphians say it is.” —Billboard on Interstate 95 Paris in the Spring, Autumn in New York, Singers pair a city with a season As though it belonged to it all year long. They should try to put a few more to work: Trenton in winter needs a good reason; Scranton in summer seems so very wrong. How about Cincinnati in the spring? Autumn in Passaic, or in Oakland? Some cities just lack glamour and appeal, And there is no point arguing the thing. No one reads through stacks of brochures to spend A honeymoon in Allentown. Let’s get real. Most places on the map, you must believe, No one wants to visit, only to leave.

my luggage went to lisbon i went to oslo we were reunited four days later i bought one shirt wore it three days ate everything had the best week of the year

people ask why i travel alone like it needs an explanation like staying needs one too i travel alone because i am the only one i always have with me

Six strangers in a room none of us from here all of us on the way somewhere by morning everyone is gone the way it's supposed to be

Three hours in an airport in a country where i don't know anyone eating a sandwich from a chain that exists everywhere i've learned to love layovers the in-between

the desert at dawn is pink and absolutely quiet and honest in the way that empty places are honest no hiding here

Everything looks better from a moving train the fields and the towns and the lives i'll never know i collect them from windows

Night ferry across the channel sleeping upright in a plastic chair cold coffee from a vending machine none of that matters when morning comes and france is there