the guy that did my taxes is dying passed the fee to the subsequent left me here to do it alone where it is good to be alive when not reminded of taxes or death the river runs so sweetly in the sun simple falls and little white water swaying weeds in gentle breeze butterflies for staring eyes catches me downing darkened wells every country falls apart never take demise to heart follow the floating ballerina dancing across the stage like wing tips of egrets that flap away fragile branches bend under a tiny bird's weight wind-up Jack for popping the weasel before it is too late written in the fifth estate February 28, 2017
where are the egrets seen yesteryear salting River Han with caws, swoops, flaps of graceful span of wings accordion necks and pencil legs veiled since summer's wane return they would, thought i after lunar new year's crackle curtailed fishing their livelihood days standing knee-deep, sharp-eyed but still they are not here gone with the turtles that sunned on boulders only the river looks the same course unchanged no bulldoze wrath overgrowth tall of weeds and grass yellow and white butterflies meandering interwoven but the Han looks lonely without egrets not a feathered one in sight left to distraction am i overcome by out-stretched serpents overnight silver-green scampering over a suddenly sunny ledge under a saturated sky of smoke that has given up being refreshed hurtling to a dilapidated mess what some men's greed of nature made driving egrets from the Han no longer greeting a fruitful dawn... i beg thee Lord, renew, do not forsake leave us not in the throws of serpents the Han holds its breath awaiting an answer the river trickles its flow until it knows egrets, please come back or i will have to find you go wait; i see a young one flying north! be patient; i see a young one on course with rice paddies being seeded i see another beauty flapping her white wings another hopping boulders along the shore reconnaissance it all makes sense coming back for more let the ambulance race the scooter the egret wades and waits lets bitter water pass through her legs for plum rain replenishment she bends her young neck down to eat for sustenance with whetted beak February 20, 2017
https://taichungjournal.blogspot.tw/2017/02/ international-holocaust-remembrance-day.html no one alive on my side in the seats to the left and right victims not here to speak Jews from the twentieth century Muslims from the twenty-first all else wear business attire all else came with friends even the rabbi of remembrance how unknown i am in his prayer how thankless to him my outreach obsessed with his in-reach how long will antisemitic Israelis prophetically walk with Christian millennials a path worn deep in a trench along a wall where murders repeat without missing a beat
a presidential heartbeat away from potatos (sic) all the mad high-hatter candidates in quicksilver inaugurations out to the races in fields of spuds in their winter of homeland security we, the people, picked them all! from McCain to McDonald's tiny ones coated and roasted couch potatoes diced and grated Mister Potatoes dressed and played boiled in Russian borscht or tossed into an immigrant salad stewed with Saint Pat corned beef and when the chips are down dusted with artificial favors salted and fattening after to market they go for profit the people descend to the overrun fields vetted and left for dead get their fill of rejection small and scarred too many cryingeyes green-skinnedrefugees collateral damage in the wasteland under a chilly gray American sky growth stunted and ravaged never to bloom or flower only rot and yet from the underground seeds that were supplanted will rise again in scavenged victory gardens
