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