black-headed egret sticks out her neck

black-headed egret sticks out her neck

reveals her graceful curves

sees further up the River Han

beyond gifts and adulation

wiser than a Christmas magician

when her wings spread wide to fly  

head tucked into her heart

in aerodynamic need

folding at Godspeed

she understands not a word of human flattery

like the alkaline rusting of an old battery

taking off and swooping to the next touchstone

integral nature in her buoyant bones

bewitching in a common river 

like Moses among the reeds

raised by sun-bleached Egyptian 

this black-headed egret fulfills life’s mission

parts the waters to Sinai with her beak

spilling out Taiwanese dreams when she speaks

December 26, 2017 

for Samantha 

Asia Winter Baseball League

the home team is Taiwan against Japan

like anywhere else, they win if they have more runs

the naked ballgame

removed of all the gambling players

the lazy bums

that wound up going through the motion...

i balk at go-go girls on the dugout roofs

p.a. barkers with headache-echo sound effects

L.E.D. technicolor screams 

sore-throated game-enders...

but in Taiwan there is baseball during Hanukkah

the miracle of extra innings burns

on a gentle evening breeze flagging right field

free admission first time families will not forget

a foul ball in the hands of a joyful child

whose parents cared to take her out to the ballgame

a change-up thrown to new hometown fans

buddies, couples, and solo score-card statisticians

who enter the stadium with bags unsuspected 

no one taking attendance

such is the beautiful game of diamond rules

in any language school

playing hooky’s cool

for your information

for my entertainment

not for some teachers’ presentation

the blues and whites in uniform

written on their backs in cuneiform

our hitter in the pinch of time

a salve for a stiff brain

sees us winnin’ every game 

December 14, 2017 

CD Lover Blues

(sung to the tune of "Third Degree" by Willie Dixon)

press her start-up button

my baby likes to play

shocks that came a-jarrin’

stopped her along the way

refrain:

bad love, turnin’ bad love

the kind that was a-thrillin’ me

when her spinning disc came rollin’

is now only killin’ me

i could ride her up a river

fetch water for the day

her juices kept on flowin’

now she never goes all the way

(refrain)

from analog to M>P 4 her

it kept our love alive

but the highs and lows were muffled

i guess we could survive but…

(refrain)

i had a notion to replace her

Phillip-ed out with a new black face

but when the L>E>D said "No C>D"

i had to put her back in her place

(refrain)

i was sorry that i'd left her

in silent inner grooves

i packed the black to give it back

but when i got home she done moved

(refrain)

so i play my babe defective

she sings for me when she can

can’t stop the shocks that closed her shop

but she is still my only woman

refrain:

bad love, turnin’ bad love

the kind that was a-thrillin’ me

when her spinning disc came rollin’

is now only killin’ me

December 3, 2017

the rippling wind that scatters blues away

the rippling wind that scatters blues away

when the weather becomes cool in Taiwan

as an egret drops a  wet vapor trail 

yonder freight train of clouds
 southbound down the strait

with  dust from a Chinese factory

leaves breath to cleanse Taichung

too bright for sunglasses

brisk for a sweatshirt over shorts

hold on to  your hat of Brooklyn nets

like a dream catcher filtering impurities

from a whirlwind tour of insecurities

dribbling beetle nut juices on the court

glistening red angels of panic

pushing me home without pedaling

in sync with nature’s meddling

further closure with its settling

November 18, 2017

a tropical autumn sun gleams

a tropical autumn sun gleams

from an iridescent sky

over freshly sheared rice paddy lines

of embedded bunches of amber straw

left after the rice harvester 

picked lingeringly clean by pigeons 

as a golden bantam rooster crows nearby

chicks and hens strutting across the path

the air growing cooler as they grow older

and still paying no attention to humans 

one of whom is on the bench

looking dead but only sleeping

awakened indiscriminately

as the suns in the hazy sky floats down

its lowering rays dip into my eyes

my bicycle wheels start leaving

with the head i am turning 

November 15, 2017

The "So Long" Song

(sung to "Love is a Rose" by Neil Young)

Refrain:
Halloween paraders on display

so throw some candy down

the trick is to treat yourself well

when friends are not around

signs at the crossroad blinking yellow

so stop look listen at the gate

wait until the big train passes

a good driver must hesitate

optometrist slips in a sharper focus

so for your world to clearly see

straightens out the stigmatism

rose colored lenses won’t suit 

Refrain:

minced words cut to deceive you

throw them in the soup

cook them til they're tenderized

or they will throw you for a loop

speedy bird rides a northern wind

so sucked into a churning jet engine of hope

i remain seated with perfect perception

trudging not down that muddy slope

Refrain:

it is not in your imagination

that innuendo slight

do not ignore it

nor stay to win the fights

against the grain of fatalism

you may have made your stance

to realize when trouble is brewing

and turn your head when witches dance

Refrain:

you should laugh not at the horror

of voters taking sides

one party mouth, and the other party asshole

do not be taken for a ride

blissful resistance to misfortune

comes to those who rebel

before you're thrown out the window

walk out just as well

Refrain: 
Halloween paraders on display

so throw some candy down

the trick is to treat yourself well

when friends are not around

Oct. 27, 2017
revised 2-17-18

Alternative History

erase my past
aim to clear
purge me from your gross neglect 
make irrelevant what got us here
movement in one big union
creating waves
swimming passionately on the picket line
anchor tethered to a dream 
landmarks recognized by heart
steering the course in the dark 
past milestone of slave harbors
avoiding sandbank traps 
along the swift riversides
intuitively near
so all is what it seems
there you go
in your mutiny
after coming and going with us
in a shared reality
witnessed mutually
whitewashed into an alternate story
here i am
a camouflaged chameleon 
without saying i left you far behind
i stand with these that share lives 
without resorting to
rewriting history 

October 17, 2017

A Portland Street in Pittsburgh

on the fringe of Pittsburgh
in a peaceful space
some adult's childhood
leaves yard toys artfully lain
upon golden pine needles unswept
among rows of smoked brick homes
from a brittle steel time 
distant like a train whistle blowing
from baron to gentry wind 
in an urban flower growth
through a crack in barren land
slipping bankrupted through our hands
but on a Portland Street 
there is one and only one  
crafting art and musica
into a living landscape painting
on board a bed of floating air
swinging from a front yard tree
necessarily retooled for infinity

October 4, 2017

like forgotten debris i will sit outside

i made it up the river again
swiped sweat from my brow onto ant friends
hustling collecting sustenance to hibernate
or spend their winter wide awake

through an uncovered blowhole round

clearing obstructed deep sea diver sound
expelling mucus for the masses

which for their colony is molasses

not flicked tobacco butts that cause cancer

nor beetle nut fiber formicidae need for bulk

a candy wrapper is the answer

for corn syrup makes no ant sulk

on a path with stallions, cows, and leaf tiles cute

an urban planner thought he’d mention

sundial night lights cannot dispute

they ease my hypertension

silver serpents slither from ledge to grass

before groundskeepers make their pass
exposing hideouts they worked hard to burrow

snake-less tunnels causing sorrow

with tropical winter coming back
wind that whips, fireworks crack
empty Baolida-B bottles in the morn

that kept some lonesome rider warm

like forgotten debris i will sit outside

exposed to unforgiving elements wide
like Northeast foliage i return

as Taichung’s winter sunlight burns

September 20, 2017

she is not a lazy river

she is not a lazy river

keeping close to the bone

i can ride alongside her

heading uptown or going home

in the sunshine she looks greener

slippery along her shores

rainless blanched rocks miss her

a narrow avoidance from war

when pooled up she stagnates

waiting patiently for the rest

to push her over the flood gate

in their falling frothy zest

i could struggle through the tangled vines

to reach the other side

scamper up deceptive dykes

or with her flow to glide

she stays the course along the way

not a deviating spur

from where she ran originally

no storm could make her stir

so go with her or mountain climb

a wandering without trails

get lost and lose the source

for empty holy grails

that is why i will never leave her

no wanderlust have i

once in a lifetime a river knows me

and stars shine in the sky

September 19, 2017

when thoughts meander like dragonflies

when thoughts meander like dragonflies
swarming over the river
with the clock running down
the typhoon calls its last time out
the outcome still in doubt.

in this soccer game of life
who cares who wins
as nature works itself out
forgets a strategy
makes no plans
takes it as it comes
all in good time

dragonflies keep jerking
back and forth
faking out hungry swallows
before the storm river moans
tumbles torrents over boulders
moving its goalposts 
to where dragonflies might be hiding
without warning  
without mention
overtime or extension

Sept. 11, 2017

As I passed through hell on deck aft raised

As I passed through hell on deck aft raised,

I saw all left behind on the way astern.

Not knowing where they were going,

They kept on going.

I distance myself from their maleficent vibes:

The entrepreneur who has not repaid his debt,

The toastmaster who never stood on a soapbox,

The privileged youth paying lip service to greed,

The charlatan meditating his struggles away,

The fellow poetess that knows not another’s poem

The arthritic drummer who cannot climb into his castle…

I wave them bye as I resume my journey,

And rest near the river on my way upstream,

Feeling the love of those who waited my return

Lending buoyancy to the road rising under my wheels.

Wetting my eyes with tears of joy,

And power to my lungs as I sing:

My energy is at your taking,

You who have helped me through my unmaking.

When all seemed defeated, deflated and dried,

You pumped me up and brought rain to the sky.

The Lord’s beneficiary at your beck and call*,

Thanks you for allowing him back from his fall.

In Job’s hour of doubt and despair I never parted,

Up the river now ride I

To where my life restarted.

Sept. 7, 2017 

*dedicated to J. Bekken

comme ci comme ça

a chameleon approximates his environment
to fit in
takes on the colors of survival
when the going gets thin
what sounds hot
is what he's got
when he wakes to look in the mirror
he is alone a lot
planning the day ahead
and colors he chooses to wed
ones that have their uses
paints on the palate of excuses
as the wind-blown bag
sticks to his teeth with juices
what else mediocrity reduces  
in a one on oneself game
of sudden death goals
in a rink without fans
what does it net?
when one is adrift at sea
with a fighting tiger and orangutan
in a life of pie
in the sky
making sense of clouds
passing him by

August 21, 2017 

karaoke village

it is hard to say until it is over
if she is right or wrong
until the sun in the west
hangs over her eastern shoulder
energy spent
like a box of expired batteries
with no need for conditioning
dry in the air of a distant typhoon 
she sits with locals of the night
under the sweeping swoon
of a hidden tropical moon 
motionless silhouettes 
an aura round their southerly tummies 
beetle nut feedback buzzing heads
oscillating with tobacco and beer
fading in, taking shape, fading out
like wading through a whiskey river 
with a ladle in her hand  
walking a wet moonlit trail home 
unafraid of being frail 
unafraid of being alone 

August 19, 2017

family secrets

a slow amber light flashed dimly

one night on my bedroom wall

reminding me of an uneaten soup

from a mysterious cookbook

in a forest of forgotten aroma 

from a marriage, shell-shocked,  

and a first born’s grievous defects 

that lingered in black and white 

through infernos of resentment
burning down our house

with personal aversions to reality

wealthy pretension

of jewels from a thief

passed off as heirlooms
like artificial intelligence
for minors in caves

of lithium battery ash  

for rocket ships to stardom

on the shoulders of silent giants

as truth trickled into the night soil 
and i went back to sleep

August 10, 2017

love with some affection

love with some affection 
is better than rejection
at least there are four children
and food from in the kitchen
at least there is companionship
without dictatorship
at least there is respect
because we do not expect
'no' is so well known
unless there is a 'yes' at home
'yes' is not a guess
better not make a mess

love with no expectations
daily celebrations of
chores and stores
rides and drives
maybe one small peck
perhaps a caress of the neck
reminder of a date
but not a touch of fate
at night we pass
through a medical flash 
out of bed i rise at dawn
to cats' morning songs 

as long as there is life
we cannot hesitate
so long as there is love
it is never too late
she lets my dreams be real
we heal each others tears
maybe touch is over-rated
after all these tender years
her touch is in my heart
my heart is in her eyes
the wonder of it all
still a big surprise 

August 3, 2017

who to talk to

who to talk to

the reason why we speak

for love from others

to pass the time

exercise the mind

for gossip or acceptance

someone needs convincing

 something to win

by showing off

a club you are out of

wanting to be in

with like-minded comrades

organizing to get it done

debate; become aware...

and why speak a second language

if it cannot be used to travel

to share what marvels have been seen

about a new community 

the home of a dream

like a poem to please the senses

heard in a foreign tongue

like a trip overseas
when life feels young

be reciprocally bilingual...

but when one speaks the first

and will not hear the second

there is no one else to reach

but a barista with an order

Quizlet on a cafe table
 hungry and alone

left with history and grammar

a mouthful of museums

an earful of inflection and tones 

August 2, 2017

nine haiku: flowers that grow back

surprise my eyes 
wonder my mind 
flowers grow back

twist off flowers with stems
into a vase of treated water
they shrivel

go down to the riverside
gather flowers 
gone!

dragonflies dart
tiny breezes retreat
typhoon arrives

pick it up, drop it
pick it up, drop it
breeze kicks a plastic bag

chanting wind
in the dark 
nature howls its mantra

mayhem passes
sun comes out
flowers rise again

stop time 
in the wrong direction 
undress the illusion

birds sing
ears ring
sit and listen 

july 27, 2017