dots in a straight line across a monitor

dots in a straight line across a monitor
in bunches or speeding up in one direction
some catching up but never passing
like vehicles 
fleshing out the number code of wi-fi 
not a highway
so unlike a butterfly
black with indigo dots at the tips of its wings
alights on my bike and breathes
opening and closing wings in itself
stays
while your cars move on
passing each other in frustration
where a butterfly doesn't have to hurry
where egrets dance through waves of air
not in one eye and out the other
egrets catch my vision
and lead me to nature
you dumb darn dots do nothing
but make life stranger

3-28-14

things left behind that others approach

things left behind that others approach,
like trash at the curbside rifled through.

addenda never added here,
now sub-divided there. 

my outcast,
your pièce de résistance.

water-logged books,
irreplaceable vinyl,tapes,
now mp3's.

sped-through yellow lights,
stopping now before the red.

a thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire,
now my one and only.

calling for strikes without workers' unions,
reinventing the wheel of oppression.

dismissed relatives sans reunion,
walked away from getting flack.

no waiting for apologies,
or revengeful eulogies.

be the change you want to see,
and not the stab in the back.

don't bother changing,
it's too small to be outgrown. 

3-26-14

Sympathetic Fallacy

there is no nature in the city
though you search hard to find it
of a crabgrass growing through the pavement crack
it isn't enveloping
as every turn around the Han river is
where motorcycles intrude 
instead of trees invading
litter boxes along curbs 
as Gerritsen Creek became Marine Park
nature cannot substitute for itself
without repercussions 
art cannot imitate landscape
only instinct can help a bird fly
and the wind never cries "Mary."
the art instructor may fail me
without changing one red brick of schoolhouse
or fire hydrant outside my window
i even have to close this poem
to be one with the Tao

3-25-14

Still Sweeney-Poo

for a moment
he stops and gets scratched between the ears
it pleases both of us
we are in love with each other
his flaccid tail hangs to the floor
but moves upward with a stroke down his back
then he moves along the wall
like you've been holding him up
some urgent place he has to go
he meets two-walls on the corner 
on time, 
and waits 
patiently
forgetting why he's come
maybe the crevice - the wall and night table
dead end
meow, what do i do now?

a sleek warm feline basking in the sun? no
an adulating frame hints of his pain
a thousand daily grooming licks? no more
stretches on hemp rope prowess? no more
sharpening claws for the home jungle? no more
arm draped over Nala dominantly? no more
covering his stool kindly in the litter box? no more
no bowel movements,
no hunger,
no thirst,
no recognition,
still beautiful
still, Sweeney-Poo

3-24-14

Kano's pitcher's finger's cut

Kano's pitcher's finger's cut

Japan's Taiwan in 1932

high school baseball playoff final

colonized inclusion

fifteen years before Jackie R.

Hino Sino Indigino integration

they lost the last game

but their spirit wooed the crowd

might may not make right

when spirit proud is not allowed

bring in the fortification

good guys finish last

when building a new nation

show they lost so now they'll win

show they lost so now they'll win

slap their faces so they'll begin again

Kano Kano start the spark

bring out millions to the park

before the dawn of Taiwan's dark

blood will be born in the birth of a nation

3-19-14

Buddhist Turtles (from Taichung Journal)

On my bike ride back from up the Han River yesterday morning, 
I noticed a dark round object on one of the boulders in the stream.
 I thought it was a large turtle and took a picture of it with my cell phone.
 When it jumped off the boulder into the water, I knew it was a turtle. 
Just a few minutes later downstream,
 I noticed another dark smaller round object on a boulder.
 I took a photo of another turtle!
 When I got home I told Leona. 
She said there are no native turtles in the Han River; 
it must have gotten there by some Buddhist to get good luck.
 When I woke up last night at 2am,
 I Googled "Turtles in Taiwan" 
and found that there are four native species of water turtle, 
according to some study some professor did. 

There were acknowledgements of Buddhist turtles, too,
 so Leona is probably right, 
though the study did find a few samples of turtle 
in the "Fun-Yuan" (sic) River. 
I was in Feng-Yuan when I saw the turtles. 
Leona's comment gave me the last verse in a poem I wrote 
along the bank of the Han yesterday.

Nov. 2012

those wild western heroes: 1 & 2

those wild western heroes: 1

(dedicated to Dee Brown's The Westerners)

children of the sun

seeking seven cities of gold

behind a half-naked black man

in colorful head feather .

 ambassador Esteban he was

 with a pair of greyhounds running beside

and three hundred Mexican Indian servants, many handsome young women

with Mendoza and Coronado right behind

the obliteration

oh dear poor zunis at hawikuh pueblo

what could you have done

the cleansing had begun

we are all forgotten ones

those wild western heroes: 2

medicine paint Catlin

who broke from them all; his wife, his parents,

to set up an easel for Lewis & Clark

and have an opportunity to view Plains Indians

'in their natural simplicity and beauty.'

beautiful Catlin

determined that the whole world see the American west

most thrilling scene he'd ever seen: meeting Comanches!

and he wanted us to see how thrilling!

but

interested not  the public

the government

 in his collection left rotting away.

no interest they in garnering sympathy

 for the race they would destroy.

for the paint brush that brought a generation 

visual impressions of the American west

who lays in Brooklyn's greenwood cemetery

with black moccasin spirit defending his tomb

  from ugly Parkman who liked his pictures,

wrote the Oregon Trail

followed by thousands,

and ended America.


July 2012

Cesar knows why dogs attack each other

Cesar knows why dogs attack each other

and it's the same reason as imperialism

foolish people can't be wrong

awful singers sing their song

call it full moon or a toss of the coins

something jitters in their loins

can't blame someone trying hard

can't tell dad he's a retard

like the road to hell

paved with good intentions

if you meant well

why a dissension? 

one dog out across the river

the old gang pack intact 

strength in numbers unforgiven

their stride unbroken

might makes right in a fight

the new dog hasn't spoken

3-13-14

lily butterflies, i will not forsake you

lily butterflies, i will not forsake you
though some may think queer my adulation
perhaps they'd take solace my welcoming them
when once i would spit in their horrid faces
the butterflies abandon me for wavering
i'd endure any insult to have them back in view
there's a pair now intertwining on their way
and even two small black birds 
following each other up stream
my other half mingles with wisps of spring air
surprised to her a book i'd dedicate
through all the distractions that injure our lives
somewhere secluded egrets fulfill their futures
as speed demons hurtle towards their next little messes
this Brooklyn boy intercedes straddling nature and machine
in favor of flowers that soften his dream
wild Han flowers between the dyke's ledge
how easy they flourish without cultivation 
terrarium masterpiece from their only master
as boys going nowhere go faster and faster

2-27-14