Excerpts from my Bhutan journal, again

Here's another ditty from my journal I kept while trekking through Bhutan:

A rat prances to Prague
for breakfast
2 in the afternoon, melting
coffee beans sizzling on a
platter.
rattle.
ring the police

Now don't be so critical. Remember, I was short on oxygen.

And now my favorite one so far:

rain like a leg fallen asleep
a gray tent house, amorphous
water dribbling through its skin
dirt specks like ticks
spelling constellations
a chocolate milky way

I'm guessing on that last one, I was in the tent, probably trying to sleep. Unfortunate things happen to people who can't sleep.

Excerpts from my Bhutan journal

Its 12:30 and not wanting to go to sleep I reached for my journal from my Bhutan trip, which was sitting above my bed. I remember, Near the end of the trip, strands of nonsense twirled through my head and I was compelled to write some down. Here's a sample:

Wake at 5.
Its 8. hours bundled
in a dream of seconds
stretching the dawn
along the rough horizon

Its 5. light dinner. Its 6.
Dark. Step out into nothing
the world at your feet
like a tight rope line
Now its 11. The thinnest silence
you've ever heard
Your heart beating time.
One by 2. One by 2.

Its 11. Enclosed by immeasurable
counters, counting each
day each hour each minute

Each minute, one foot at a time
along the rough rope.
grasp it. it is morning

minutes flowing into an eddy
of time
collected like stamps
sent off to distant places,
locomotion.