there is no last poem about the Han

there is no last poem about the Han
even if the river runs dry
the wedge through Taichung lingers on
even if they landfill it with investor condos
the old-timers know not to live there

even if i choose a new place to write
oldies but goodies won't suffice
a pair of fresh eyes will see it anew
feel or smell it instead of writing it
or churn its water into different literature

but i cannot move on
i have not found another place to grow
and i will not turn back
become sentimental or publish a book
to stay forever in the Tao
peel the layers thin off the smoggy mountain

filling me to the brim cannot happen
God extends passed my top
fencing me in cannot happen
workers of the world recognize no borders

ears hear the ping-pong stereo of bird calls
in a sound ecological system
hi-def wide-screen insects passing
wisps of make-a-wish dandelions 

the Han she rolls from mountain streams 
where reality resembles dreams
there a first poem never was 
and last Han poems will never be

4-24-14

sitting near smog-shrouded mountains

sitting near smog-shrouded mountains

a secluded West Virginia holler 

or being rich in Shanghai with bodyguards
little birds fight the Han towards a dam

fulfilling nature's contradictions 

like lemmings off a cliff

this is their nature

causes bears' dumpster diving in New Jersey

for us who mess the world up

light rockets for Buddha bursting in air
make mountains of smog burning ghost money

as pairs of egrets wing their way south o'er the river

while noisy little scooters race along the banks

reckless steering makes them crash

naturally

4-22-14

'my first new friend in Taiwan'

the thought of calling him
'my first new friend in Taiwan'
like a person who knew me
from way back when

there's nothing i need from him
besides calling him my friend
despite our being equals
he is the better man

play along with him
as a wife can't give you all you want
tons of disinterest 
he knows what you need

cohorts could play together
even older by a few years
age doesn't bring us closer
he is still wiser than me

could befriend him on Facebook again
and reveal that he was unfriendly
better to let him be
ask not for his approval

a first friend must have a follower
let him play his chosen part
foolishly let my guard down
until the day he'd break my heart

4-20-14

the river runs fast when squeezed

the river runs fast when squeezed

builds up might when oppressed

ripples with the wind

and develops undercurrents 

when rubbed the wrong way

the dykes rise so high

that typhoons can't supply

prepared for future time

and stormy Mondays

not your clock or mine

fast cars honk pass noisy scooters

late for nowhere

never mind the river

the criminals forgetting

the river runs faster when squeezed

some drivers get tired of waiting

count missed opportunities

temporal limits

 domino effects

vacations cancelled 

park your scooter, sit beside me

you are not disturbing

drunk, sick, and out of time

sorry wasted man 

have a cigarette

driver, park beside me

start a conversation

mount your scooter

into the procession

of motorized worshipers

4-13-14

i only need to ride the river

i only need to ride the river

be right with it to forgive her

i only need to pause and stare

when dams are made to hinder there

little noisy motor scooters

ignored by frantic butterflies

in the river, egrets linger

far removed from passersby

the crowd in Taipei starts to panic

oblivious to the mad mechanic

as the river rolls its life away

and never hears a word we say

nothing lost and nothing gained

crane your neck and now it's sprained

"come back swiftly," the river calls

"don't tumble through the waterfalls."

the butterflies know what to do

they seek out nectar two by two

as birds' poop falls on random heads

they fly above the living dead

when life's obstructions give instructions

turn away from all the suction

rolling Han knows all the news

doesn't care when trouble brews

sweet smelling spring flowers blooming

needn't vainly await grooming

leave the hubbub, come up here

to sweet Han waters running clear

4-12-14

dots in a straight line across a monitor

dots in a straight line across a monitor
in bunches or speeding up in one direction
some catching up but never passing
like vehicles 
fleshing out the number code of wi-fi 
not a highway
so unlike a butterfly
black with indigo dots at the tips of its wings
alights on my bike and breathes
opening and closing wings in itself
stays
while your cars move on
passing each other in frustration
where a butterfly doesn't have to hurry
where egrets dance through waves of air
not in one eye and out the other
egrets catch my vision
and lead me to nature
you dumb darn dots do nothing
but make life stranger

3-28-14

things left behind that others approach

things left behind that others approach,
like trash at the curbside rifled through.

addenda never added here,
now sub-divided there. 

my outcast,
your pièce de résistance.

water-logged books,
irreplaceable vinyl,tapes,
now mp3's.

sped-through yellow lights,
stopping now before the red.

a thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire,
now my one and only.

calling for strikes without workers' unions,
reinventing the wheel of oppression.

dismissed relatives sans reunion,
walked away from getting flack.

no waiting for apologies,
or revengeful eulogies.

be the change you want to see,
and not the stab in the back.

don't bother changing,
it's too small to be outgrown. 

3-26-14