After finishing books in Taiwan
I would wake in a stupor in Pittsburgh
In a slashed and burned democracy
Whiffing the rank smell of death with pride
Singing sad songs on the front line of no-man’s land
My countrymen, worthless and sick of trying.
Though I was furthered to be the light
The wood that burned the flame was exhausted
Yet the realm of enlightenment remained
For this cautious old fox walking on ice
Not wetting his tail in disastrous attempts
Of transition from a disorder yet complete
Lean on the other leg in anticipation
Of a fruitful spring vacation
With my eyes wide open and letting go
In retrospection it will seem
I passed through phases of a dream
To mind the gaps at empty stations
Safe in Taichung as the virus spreads
Glad watching a hag picking toes on a bench
Better than being lost in flight
Or returning home in the dead of night
For quarantine in paradise
October 12, 2020
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