the choice is ours how we're going to pay

the choice is ours how we're going to pay
someone in New York says we owe
just as sure as we came here
baby, we just had to go

what the i ching said 
about letting a child go home
with a choice we heard in her head
she did not say "no"

that filthy communal house with"A"
made us both say "Oh!"
we can wait to sell another day
after the winter's snow

let the wife talk with Kelly
what is right under the circumstance
she cannot have it both ways
there are no answers; only dances

choose as the feeling suits you
we took our house "as is"
benefitted from its conveniences
that is where we chose to live

then evil entered at an "open house" sale
a stain that will remain
without a chance to defend ourselves
even the new owners will have the pain

no one to defend us in absentia
move on and outward, Amanda and Alberta
let the blackmail pittance afford the city
does it pay? ask Amos and Hosea

9-25-14

an excellent two days of a seven-day weekend, thwarted

an excellent two days of a seven-day weekend, thwarted
from my own desire, none of my own undoing
with flexibility and plan "b" trappings
Funk and Wagnalls takes a radical turn right
after entering the Bashi Channel
not radical enough to spare my plans for Taipei
or avoid high speed rail cancellation 
no Frankenstein browsing in Ding-Hao 
or harmonica poetry performance at Red Room 
or peoples' environmental climate march
because of the changed environment

it will be bags of ramen noodles for us
with little flavor packs of tasty gutter oil
and endless loops of typhoon trajectory on TV
to keep the palm trees on the patio
tied to the stakes around the ledge

bring in the brawny beach chair projectile
and warm the chair cushion in front of Nala
Nala who lies comfortably between keyboard and monitor
as, from this bench, i bid farewell to the last Han River egret
that cackles a coughing whoop
and catches a cacophony of breezes
before it rains off to its shelter
when the torrents outside of lashing winds  never end
bending banks of thistle in a counter-clockwise clash
ripping bushes of weeds and  trees 
by their desperate dangling limbs

until the sun, washed of smog, reappears o'er the mountains
and a dozen posts have been added to my blogs
do things get picked up, put back, or carried away
on the day after the day
like Scotland Scots, unaware of the terror
who fail to break from England away

9-19-14

white ghost i am in a yellow land

white ghost i am in a yellow land
sticking out then blending in
they look at and leave me alone
ignored by those who think they know better
even other ghosts lost in their own white weather

with invisibility comes privilege 
red lights to ride through, extra respect
no one to punish when i stick out my neck
places to go where no one would venture
in my own time with special adventure

trailblazer pioneer disguised as a refugee
looked up to, admired, they imitate me
that foreigner who gets away with all he dares
i dare them to fight for and win their own pension
then maybe their women would pay them attention

who made the losers they just won't admit
this is their land and they made their own shit
everyone's got to fight to be free
instead of foolish worry about losing face
the right time is now and this is the place

who sits by the river watching nature evolve
alone on a bench unresolved
a ghostly light emanates from this spot
under the lighthouse as still as a mouse
this ghost can agitate if they'd be aroused

restful white ghost sit down on your seat
this bench is long enough for others you'd meet
their hearts their eyes can see their own minds
a friendly ghost can be inviting and kind
if only they'd get off their scooter's behind

to be so used to being a ghost
but inside still a human host
i wonder if anyone will answer my call
if anyone will ever show up at all
they won't and i'm not disappointed

for they don't need me and i only do myself
unless they schedule a payment to me
i have nothing to them to teach
only learn to ignore and pretend my comfort
at being like them any ghostly color

i could post to Facebook or meet them face to face
one is more convenient, both leave the same place
on my one with past friend to assure me
no new friends to invisibly abhor me
only music and the river keeping me afloat

they won't come, oh no they won't
if i go they'll surely laugh
to be entertained by a ghost in costume
one dimension, suddenly apparent
only my lover sees me transparent 

9-15-14 

wind stirs the slumbering Han heading southbound

wind stirs the slumbering Han heading southbound
you can almost hear the thunder of a distant train
moving slowly behind a heavy mixing engine
boxcars passing as clouds thicken above
and shadows they are lifted off of you

why haven't the egrets returned yet
to catch the fries and return to nest
soon the assurance of autumn on tropical terrain
will draw them back to wade in
as rippled water round vacant turtle stones

blow you bold-faced northers
circulate the primal airs you've come to recover
push us along to the next song of merriment
as drunken work crews cut you down to the sediment
and beauty of forward life this season has begun 

9-11-14

squeezing hard to eject the shit

squeezing hard to eject the shit
one month's Brooklyn will do the bit
today like every day in Taichung
ain't bad living day by day
with a turtle on the rock in the Han
solidarity
with the billowy birds in the Han sky-way
solidarity
but i am lonely for humanity
not for myself alone
all the defeaters throwing bones
which could back me against the wall
with their howling wind
leave me blown and harass my mind
i don't want to be alone
if you are kind
dying to be loved
if you are kind
if i can't spend my time with love
i guess i must be blind
the Lord's enough love on the river
on the river to unwind
sitting here in the Taichung sun
contemplating your mind

9-4-14

a foul wind limps o'er the Han

a foul wind limps o'er the Han
in mockery, pool stagnant
begs to be led to any tumultuous moving
as the noon day sun canopies milky shading
despite the doldrums un-aroused

Han waters never reverse upstream
unlike navigable canals 
with mule teams pulling barges through locks
with glimmering teeth skyward gleaming 
though through putrid surroundings 

it doesn't dry up in riverbed ruts
for the weather's always changing
in the strait ahead
when the world disguises you as an open sewer
egrets cannot be fooled


 



they penetrates its glassy surface
they patrol their bounty gaining eyes
growing fins and filtering gills
when timelessness beckons
egrets will be fulfilled 

as naked belly laborers languish siesta 
they swoop to natural correctness
restless
and bore through stinky thick air
as landscapes are broken down

9-5-14

sitting sweatingly on a Han River bench

sitting sweatingly on a Han River bench
alone without your problems
beyond the reach of evil stench
and never-retired wobbling 

weeds grown high along the river banks
dragonflies in tandem on bicycles built for two
mating their fate no hesitation in the ranks
flow with nature, not with me or you

these simple verses can get no worse
till critics lead the way
i'm sitting here with no one near
and will so every day

caterpillar, why haven't you butterflied
with summer on the wane
you are pretty enough in your leggy pride
from me get no disdain

with three seeds planted 
no gout no doubt no pain
i'll wait these months to be enchanted
in colored winter rain

i may be weak but not a freak
that sits on a velvet throne
deserves and serves that servant's leak
the grizzle on the bones 

as Moses up the mountain for tricks
as weaklings drool below on idols
so rode i up with Bungalow Bill hicks
Han waters aren't tidal 

Tallon or Turton flirtin' or hurtin'
may greet my book with jealous looks
truth is skirtin' Richard Burton
like Elizabeth Taylor's schnook

two seasons sow rice and one of potatoes
in heaven's twain i shall remain
with Belafonte's Day-O
without cuts, lacerations, or sprains

i sing the idiocy of Whitman's fidelity
the illusion of union without democracy
America is not of it, just living shitty
of any man's right to liberty

hey, Godly cricket, pass through my wicket
over the bike wheel and leaves of grass
no sign at all, not even a picket
this feeling, too, shall pass

down on funky funky Broadway
there is a corporate headquarters
that egrets wouldn't shit passing anyway
here on the Han there are no borders

what one wants is not what one says
sun shines as long as loud as egrets cry
sing the blues with Billy Holiday
across Taichung's milky skies 

boring through, the great escape is made
hello birdie, make me worthy
every song a Han River serenade
wash away the rotted dirty 

9-1-14