In the wind.

Shouts from

Friendly women

In painted vans

Of flags and

Faces familiar.

We look upon

Tinted windows

Cracked slightly

For running



Fanfare herds

Silence out

To pasture.

Dusty air clouds

Tires and tracks

As they drive on

Promoting futures

Yet unseen.

Trying to sell trust,

Or perhaps,

Trying to buy it?

Intangible markets

Make for

Unpredictable trends

And inflation.

Around the block,

Past the wooden

Fences and concrete


Across bumpy

Roads unpaved.

Who is this

Mystery man

Who wants us

To listen?

The music and

The friendly woman

Lead the parade;

A dead man


Composed 06/14/2012

Author’s note: National elections were held in Mongolia back in June of this year. In the villages, people would fly flags for the party of their choice. It was interesting to see all the flags floating above the homes. There would alos be vans that drove up and down the busted dirt roads, blaring slogans and what one can only infer to be some form of propaganda. During election day, everyone has to take down their flags. Everyone in the village gets the day off to vote. In honor of the upcoming American elections, I thought I’d share this piece of Mongolian political tradition.

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Sunset (Poetry)

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Short Woman (Poetry)

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