the river is my refuge

the river is my refuge
the guru is my flea
blades of tall grass growing fast
my choral reverie

the water from the mountains
flows gently towards the strait
though trash may come and trash may go
it does not hesitate

the black wing tips of egrets dip
to listen to the sound
and see if fries are swimming by
so dinner can be found

the hostess' kitchen nearly bare
Han solo on the docks
the only pizzazz that was round
was whiskey on the rocks

branches bent from pushing winds
no going against the tide
to be expelled into the river
is calmer there inside

the river lets debris drift shore-ward
and there the useless stays
until Samaritans come tidy up
and throw the trash away

i hear the wining voices mumble
on the road behind the bench
i choose to fuse with, face the river
transcendence in a cinch

12-21-15 

my biggest disappointment is why my eldest daughter

my biggest disappointment is 
why my eldest daughter
why the daughter why
cannot see the disappointment
feel her father's distraction
the wasted energy
it took to keep her free from
her aunt's instigation
negation of our family
a surreptitious entity 

i would rather see her funeral
than see her at your wedding
my hatred is unending, unbending
for the pain she caused our parents
for trying to tear our family apart
with her blackened heart of jealousy
her resentment of my wife
her vengeful stroke
thumbing her nose,laughing
hysterically at the slammed door

i cannot disregard her
or put her under ground
at her niece's finest hour
beyond the deadest flower
smelling like a Rose
a dead Ray in Zimbabwe
abandoned Dad in Miami
deserted Mom in D.C. 
like gifts of dried-up Play-Dough
love cannot be re-molded

how could you invite her,dear daughter 
the woman who poisoned our water
who passed your father by
when the Shanghaied angel cried
and had me stepped aside
to enter our home
swooped down upon
in a long distance telephone
cackling like a witch in delight
the computed lie in the night

how can you not see her intention
how could you take her part
at their end our parents realized
there was nothing in her heart
i guess i will just ignore her
when she floats into the reception hall
when she smiles at us so sweetly
malice meant 
bribes for her redemption
she will spend her last J.A.P.* cent

12-1-15

* Jewish American Princess

read what greed for property does

read what greed for property does
seek their enemies' allegiance
beyond what colonists take for granted
on the path of least resistance

await high tide when the full moon rises
slip in undetected
walk amongst evil incognito
like smoke in the wind, unaffected

the peoples' ubiquitous army
appears here forcefully mitigated
help the Lord  lead from destruction
peaceful and unabated

karma on the side of the righteous
the world will soon be cleansed
move it along by doing no wrong
feeling what is sensed

come on ye warriors young and old
grasp wanderers on the land
erase the trail of their obstruction
thrust interlopers in the sand

arm yourselves with history
read through struggles free
from popes and putrid destiny
to mighty rightists' infamy 

11-27-15

i never said the riverside was not dirty

the main culprit cigarette butts

chewed-up 
spit-out 
beetle-nut pulp

a straw

 a fast-food chopstick 

an eggshell shattered

over the ledge 

paper cups

plastic bags scattered

spongy wood bench

to which my shorts are plastered

spat upon by 
some filthy bastard

despite the sign of warnings

of carelessness forbidden

a cement factory processes

 jolts of knocking stone conveyor 

the Han River mill's satanic soundtrack 

added to washboard speed-bump rhythm

slowing no car down or masking the sound

of sputtering motorcycles obnoxious ground

through miles of smog

mountain mortuary giving homage to fog 

pylons like clothesline pins my dream 

modern madman's electrocuted stream

a filthy place, i never denied

as a bug crawls off my pen to hide

a worn-out world superimposed

on the river as sweet as a rose

over which graceful egrets swoop

butterflies flutter, dragonflies zoom

white-tail weeds bend to the moon

in the overdue days of a tiger fall

cool killer breezes covering all

creepy insects ceasing their creeping

ants finding romance out of my pants

lost drifter cycles with pollution so vile

as the Han River recovers its beauty

for a while

11-20-15

travels take planning

travels take planning
step by step and no sidestepping
while traveling within the mind
roads materialize
destinations quiver in overheated sun
mirages appear and oases quench
the thirst of the thinker out of body

the will of another breaks the spell
obstruction that interferes
yet my mind has many detours
when the urging of others
makes the ends of threads longer 
winding through avoidance
at every compass point 

direction that the good Lord lends me
no sense resisting
break the barrier that leads astray
and go with the woman i love 
in the dark of the night
with a soft place 
to rest along the way


11-10-15

the hobo stays out all night

the hobo stays out all night 
where bugs bite by the dyke
pastime alights without a fight 
too fatigued to go on home
green-tiled urn mortuary's
gleaming gold gilted sign
loses its luster
as the western sun slip under the smog blanket
pylons piling on electrical smells
through peak viewing hours into the night
sleepless hobo tossed until dawn
running cross the plate
dressed in an old ragged uniform
from out of the night 
and no more accounts to settle

10-31-15

deceptive major league baseball

deceptive major league baseball
where managers wear players' uniforms
where Met-town P.A's blare their song: Duda, Duda
while on the Han River teeming with nature
a turtle midstream sticks out its neck
a sparrow like an arrow darts to third
we are all out when the game is over
with stray dogs running home

the popcorn is free at this ballpark
outside the Dong-Shan diamond
with uniforms as white as in Citi Field
kids wondering how such a big mistake
like adults spelling "city" wrong 
could have gone unnoticed in the rush
parents buying over-priced hot dogs 
taking selfies proud they were there

they will not smell any freshly cut grass
while waiting for the exit in extra-charge garage
but i am all smiles in my neighborhood
on a beach chair alongside my buddy
hearing the players hooting and stamping 
no electric scoreboard to dazzle
simply a river than River Avenue running by
our grand slam home run is the blue blue sky

10-14-15

as the cell door snaps shut on another friendship

as the cell door snaps shut on another friendship
with the lunatic behind bars
why do i feel like
i am his trap
being free to roam
while he is lost forever more

without looking back i can see
he is one less soul to comfort
no sympathy had he
nor my worthy ideals did he feel
yet family for me seems to mean
more than a birth's proximity

as aunts do their dances
and uncles buckle if per chances
i am free in Han River's vicinity
with blue sky breezes enveloping me
egrets gliding incessantly
and the warm sun glowing incandescently

through ribbons of roads and highways bind me
no mad driver there has yet to find me
as i sit on this bench of wood unwinding
from a lunatic's headlights blinding
unraveling the messes
of Maya's grindings

10-14-15 

be fundamentally here and now

be fundamentally here and now
as time goes by.
mourn John Lennon's shooting
another day.
meteor showers come around each year
stars remain out of reach, dear
so do not preach or try to teach
while you are here
just be here now

October 2015

mourning the loss of Cannabis Jerry

mourning the loss of Cannabis Jerry
because i could not leave him alone to bud
leaves removed photosynthesize 
yellow become with amputations
like ravishing leftover crust of happy pizza 
insatiable hunger after a meal

Cannabis Jerry of Cambodian birth   
who colored hundreds of boring evenings 
with lingering lingering nothing doing
go on go on re-examining
unaware of pretension writing for others
naively inspiring no one but myself

take away the edge, Cannabis Jerry
lead me astray lost in wisdom
me and Jerry chugging along on the brain-train
just a lonely refrain on the piano
not going to Memphis in the meantime
where life has crushed Jerry out

9-27-15 

when egrets return to Han River

when egrets return to Han River
ants climbing benches will climb no more
Indochinese moisture will shift to sandy Xinjiang wind
egrets will fly from their tree coops to fish in the waters
leaving rice paddy beasties for something more substantial
when wind whips north from China

a young egret now getting its feet wet
first to eat fish this season
others smell it on his breath 
swoop down the gully
long necks 's'-shaped and legs extended
when the autumn moon shines large and full

in the fertile Han waters they shall feast
safe from humans, no need flying south
Taichung's their home with monogamous mate 
mountainous homes up and away
nesting siblings rivalry's future strength
best colonizers Taiwan has ever hosted

when egrets return, i will be there
though shores of boulder-bolstering tractors detract
overgrowth cleared of all wild factors...
when the bike-ride up the Han turns slow
be pushed back to Beitun without turning a pedal
i will be in front of where the breeze lifts me

resist i not the fresh egret breeze
muting the mufflers in the street
easing me with egrets into the river's crease
so scout on, lonely first egret
to your promised land on rocks midstream
ripples of white water buffeting the shallow marshes

dragonflies gone with summer
gnat eggs hibernating until spring's dawn
fish running realizing they have been matched
their beauty renewed in Han River snatched
by egrets from billowed white and blue skies 
to bring grace to Taichung summer's end

again the typhoon winds are blowing
scattering smoke from burning fields
this is how they pay their dead
winds whipped weed-tinged burners
rote-memorizers and never-learners
again the typhoon tries rearranging*

9-20-15
* added 9-27-15

crisp layers of corrugated structures

crisp layers of corrugated structures
dot the impermanent plain
not a resident or worker within
with thoughts beyond existence
no child born that would save the world

mountains roll as the river flows
changes with nature's persistence
while buildings rot 
and residents shrink older
the earth given nothing that would be missed

the city merely maintains
resistant to change
with nature probably interfering.
the river is so different;
not one drop stays in place

earthquake moved mountains
which never about-face
abut thin crisp layers of livelihood
in need of income
how could the residents appreciate it?

how could working people afford
to sit on this bench with me
pondering existence
pondering eternity
crisp fragile layer of civilization

rare daily bread and peaceful dreams
more likely daily dread
and get-rich-quick schemes
just get the workers home by dusk
safely from their delicate layers of corrugated 

vulnerable residents and workers
walk home on the grass along the Han bike path
unaware of snakes lurking underfoot
like the alienation which deprives the individual
of immediate sense experience

9-2-15

first love not best love

never will i  forget my first love
remember always will i my best love
to live want  i with the best love
who keeps me coming for more love
she fell off the horse way back when
i was her Sir Galahad, her forever friend
slower my jogging and needing a seat
she kept on running and could not be beat
with my best love i ride and never tire
each other we pace and nothing higher
how could i miss her when she is near
i do not have to kiss her to show her how dear
my first love feels lost with memories of me
i could not satisfy her by pissing on trees
but my best love has acres of territory
endless blank forests for every new story
like a galloping dog near a master's scooter, faster
my best love sits near me on a sofa with laughter 
i am with her even when we are apart
my mind never strays too far from her heart
my best love can find me and knows what to do
the leaves have their season so pick up a few
it feels so right naturally in its place
that is what i see in my best lover's face
though first loves are never worn out or forgotten
i breathe in my best love like air through cotton

8-2-15

it is time to move on

when flies smell blood
through a slight flesh wound
the lilting tickle is enough
to break my concentration
it is time to move on

when ants scurry around my feet
make an incursion up the flip-flop
onto the foot and across the ankle
inside the pant legs
it is time to move on

another place will not be hard to find
any bench along the Han River line
stay loose and flexible
pack it all up and go
when it is time to move on

all that is here i can do there
with no companion to drag along
bicycle wheels transport themselves
all that i have is in my pockets
when i move on time 

i can write here or write there
no one will care what i say
like a boat passing on the Danube to Vienna 
sits Altenberg and Trotsky at Cafe Central
one stays, one moves on with plans in life

an old man with sorghum bottle canteen
passes by me on time every day 
will see me on an alternate bench
not knowing the reason or sniff the stench
that clearly made me move on up the river

8-1-15

when Mike May died the other night

when Mike May died the other night
there was not much he could do about it
he tried to fight it
the noble notion of fighting to the end
the flight of the tattered peace dove
mostly he had love
and a revolutionary spirit undeterred
in a wasteland called Satan Island NYC
the largest dumpster in the world
Mike May's tarnished flag was unfurled
he laid it on waste
unfurled
screamed himself raw like a punk
ripped his lungs to shreds
what Mike May might have done
if he were not now dead

8-1-15 

lonely days and Arabian Nights

lonely days and Arabian Nights.
a thousand and one stories 
teaches me, carries me like
late night hash marks on prison walls 
that welcome new dawns

a thousand and one links of jewels
makes time pass for this trucker
rest stopping on an endless gray highway

stories that keep me high until i expire 
new vistas in the sky away from
the stench of road kill driving me

ride ribbons of river flowing
passed fragrances and freshness of new life
a river: a sea that cannot conspire in stillness
nor entangle or wallow me



"Move on, move on," the Han River speaks,
it reminds and unbinds me,
moves me out of hidden underground chambers 
for a thousand and one nights
tantalizes me with magical tomorrows 

7-29-15

riding the new bike path along Han River east

 riding the new bike path along Han River east
as outsourced gardeners slash weeds 
on the western mall
cool typhoon winds whipping westerly tycoons
leave Taiwan alone in town away from the gloom
of Chinese capitalists 
briskly falling down
hear the gentle sound 
of austerity found
under sweet mountain springs 
drifting southerly towards the straits
around Taichung through its gates 

the Han River welcomes me back
from a Tainan-Taipei ping-pong excursion

rippling crests of foamy water fordable

of a living made affordable 

chirping birds swooping audibly

my exterior office portable

tapping out the test of nature sung

your honking cars behind mean nothing

                       bother no one 

                              7-11-15

Fourth of July Sparklers

we can barely open our eyes
from the humble pain of acidic sunlight
our brains numbed by its robbing our sleep
unsettling our brows, causing disenchantment

time passage dares our superstitious beliefs 
like other upsetments counted in threes 
let the clock tick loudly our resentment
bringing some briskness back in the breeze

no one blames us for what we are not doing
why you do not like us is more absurd
human error maims innocent victims
interaction avoidance stows our sterility

we need not wait to be forgotten after death
forgotten we have been from our very first breath
write not for anyone's enlightenment but our own 
so long as she needs me she will find me at home

how many Facebook hits will thrill us?
how many bong hits will fulfill us?
how many road trips heading home
until the road becomes home and home is a tomb?

so pick me up, Joe, on Tara's portico
sleep like an opium-eater in Savannah 
under the willow tree, cobwebbed and heavy
cannot get it up in the back seats of Chevys

the ides of summer, soft and delinquent
three typhoon daisy-chain causing excitement 
open eyes wider for Fourth of July sparklers
then shut them tighter awaiting tomorrow 

7-4-15

much has life been waylaid subordinate to love

much has life been waylaid 
subordinate to love
yet whose lament regrets
having no significant shove
wonders he of the sights 
along the road not taken
future better seen 
in the palms of your hands shaken

nuance and notes
that make old wine fantastic
care not of bottle labels
snazzy bombastic
new is every sip 
fermented in the heart
missed vineyards 
reachable when lovers take part 

snoop around, march around 
make an awful fuss
when unsure backtracks leave
love scent in the rust
moving forward 
hands can be in hands found
pissed away starvation
follows those who get around

do your dearest, dearest
lovely in the mood
life led astray
missing bones for good
tenderize me with your kisses 
near my whispered ear
gone today along the way 
that egos rightly fear

forward looking backward
plans we met that night
left others blind in dusty roads 
missed us out of sight
when scoundrel made 
you strayed fighting for your life
spit tonic sewer water
sacrificial wife

no road left we cannot walk
together every day
lead us be where we are going
must be on our way
fly fly velvet butterfly 
make our lullaby
compensate us for the loss
that saved us from the lie

7-2-15
updated 12-8-17