does a dragonfly need an arrow to point meaning "follow me?"
you cannot be distracted by nature only returned to away from what has distracted you like measly meddlers muddy boot prints art sales and royalties starring attractions being famous or unknown progress or regression instead of 'being here now' suggestions through mouths to feed submissions to oppressions abounding requiring resounding fortitude to pass through the night when nothing seems right and catch the distraction that workers might 10-27-14
it's not very clear how the hand-driven plow turns the soil gray how it putters and smokes stumbling along the patties where bonfires of rice stalks ash the land send the smoke sky high like in a bedroom at midnight choking while we're toking on hits and bongs and incense burning smoke hiding abstract smoke signals only scooters fumes here, uninspired un-inspected like cigarettes drooping from motor mouths oily smoke from mothers on wheels godly smoke blown heavenward and acid smoke from across the strait in China smoke in dead air pockets choking mountains cataract mountains fumigation egrets and dragonflies in need of ventilation
my son's pain doesn't affect her to sympathy or love it tarnishes the warmth that took a weekend to brew the intruder she confused as i fended and took a bite what did she place on the table but bitter herbs and waited to hear me say 'how sweet' as my son shuffled back to the basement no natural interest at all
what made the tears so salty with a cross to bearably bear she coexisted his sisters insisted grandma and auntie resisted
so she threw her pain into my lap for me to drain away after years of saplings as tall as the trees would grow still no affection just a drag from undertow couldn't see two crazy lovers loving each other crazily not unlike her and me and the love that bore fruit in time 10-6-14
am i made whole by this delivery from Brooklyn as migratory birds flock south over the Han over the mountains of Taiwan i am grounded not the movable type books that follow me till death we part with pages that swing from the past into the future look at all the migratory verbs and me, like a dragonfly of indecision hovering in tandem with my rider resting on pages of unpublished rhyme 10-3-14
like measly meddlers
through mouths to feed
