The condition of time is that I replace time forget time relive it impose matter of fact(ness) so that it doesn't matter I forget I suppose my terms are conditions of misconstrued tendencies relaxed manifestations of living in place as justification for calling a home a home rather than a place where I sleep my own recovery towards solidification I understand nothing only experience my own discovery I see birds fall in states of disbelief imposing my own constructs of what it is to fly in a plane an idea a bird should I try as if I already knew I feel the wind beneath my feet I thought I was in a pool with fish space reconnecting proof of my relativity pinpoint actualization as if we stay in the same place I have never known about the rendezvous of the future and the past only immediate concerns with memory as a momentary glance into impermanence which is time in itself unravel the mystery and vertigo of the central being oblivion in creation deem the eye the beholder the eye the finite discussion replaced by questions of delivery and transmutation.
Large Mannered Motions
Large mannered motions guide me as I walk the world write swim breathe tin up against the roof the Sun I see at night but not during the day cuz the sun drives the weary away deliverance from absolute forgiveness into the madness of the mind surely I am already born a man on this Earth so how is it possible that I have never gone mad? angry? yes crazy yes any word that I can think of to undo myself I walk the world with my hands feet utility reliability in the sense that I will always keep on walking but then there's the Sun behind those trees on top of the hill covering everything in the mind I walk in blues reds pinks from above but am I free? do I see things at night? do I believe? large mannered motions follow me lift me dissolve the whole human race into believing in God just in time trust in my eye believe in the big black lie the sun do you see at night are you blind they told you whoever they may be to keep on walking is thinking his writing is singing simultaneously voluntarily involuntarily Like a Prayer turning into song so sing along! to the preamble of the Constitution of the mind draw believe in anything suspend belief grow learn from above the sun shines down on me it burns my skin changes the color I have lovers from above a soliloquy dissolving inside the walk persist! persist! enlist in the encampment of the mind in nature at odds with humanity fractured in emblematic parameters kind souls feed me deliver me from my own existence this persistence of air sun water the moon a light bulb on my soul I don’t succumb to the light’s refrain in the anonymity of night a dark place revolutionized in refraction subtraction division of my two heads three I sing unto the latitudes of the soul every kind remind me what it’s like to be kind humanity perplexities in realizing we are all alone in our suffering mine come back to me feet arms legs walk swim write what is left in mountains of light and streams these eyes these pools remind me of what it is to be alive!
I take my walk in the morning the birds roosting their calls in the temple down the street in the trees I make my walk around the neighborhood watching folks come out of their homes for a little while looking over their shoulders around the block parallel strides divide but conquer say hi to the old lady sitting in her wicker chair nervously waving to me with her mask hanging down by her chin I see if Q Mart is open and the small food vendors but the police are out in the morning shunning people away not letting them pass doing their jobs pawns I grab coffee from Ms. Tam who's always smiling an anomaly the best part of my day continue along up the street a parallel divide with hardly anyone outside they look behind when a motorbike passes them by always a watchful eye I walk up the street with all the flowers in the trees suddenly blinking at me the last man on earth not really an old man sits with his wife and plays the guitar I see him every morning he says hello smiles and sings in a horsey voice shy of his ability but earnest in agility I continue on my way turning the corner at the vegetarian restaurant that provides fresh food for half our neighborhood one young girl speaks English with me I speak Vietnamese to order turn left in the direction of the sound of the birds in an abandoned temple hundreds of them chirping and being free wild and free like existential me strolling back home every morning I take this walk my metric idiom my rest my repose my street has pink and white flowers and with all the rain the mountain behind the buildings is green the lighthouse tower on top empty except for one man that sits under its light waiting steadily for it to blow itself out.
“My Walk” was written about the lockdown of 2021 in SE Asia. I was out on the coast in Vung Tau, Vietnam for 10 months before returning to Saigon. Every day I would take a walk around our neighborhood in the morning to see what was going on.
Ken Edward Rutkowski is an artist/writer living in Vietnam. While in Asia, he has traveled around Vietnam, Cambodia, Indonesia, the Philippines, Taiwan, Malaysia, Borneo, Thailand and Sri Lanka. He is a contributing writer with Mad Swirl and more of his work can be found in spaces such as Tofu Ink Arts Press, Scapegoat Review, Fiction International and The New Post-literate. Ken recommends Viet Dreams.