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
February 19, 2017
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 crying eyes
green-skinned refugees
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
February 1, 2017
