Brian Taylor Poems

Formerly the Lahu were in Yunnan.
Now they have brought their black teeth and black cotton,
their smell of stale sweat and wood smoke
to places like Doi Angkhang.
...

Christ Church meadow
is awash with driving rain
and a wind, which bites the skin
and chills the blood within.
...

Jingle bells. Jingle bells
Jingle all the way.
Oh what fun it is to ride
On a one horse open sleigh!
...

“If I make merit by doing good
and share it with others,
how much will I be left with? ”
...

Going out there is no other
coming back there is no trace.
As Eternity comes nearer-clearer,
the brackets themselves have a smaller place.
...

The splendour of a hundred kings
fades like the bloom on a butterfly’s wings.
The meanest flower that blows
goes the same way the forest goes.
...

Why did they spend so much time there
in the anteroom of death?
What could they prepare?
Paper possessions as light as breath
...

What They died for
has not survived
their sacrifice.
...

Enter the Heart Chakra.
What can be seen?

A meadow.
...

begins in the half dark
with a six inch huntsman spider
exploring my chair,
ends with a Laotian girl,
...