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
river terrarium drenched in milky sunlight
like a faded Kodachrome
butterflies white and yellow, outstanding
as putter-by's on motorbikes blend invisibly
while my bicycle and I rest on a riverside bench
breathing fragrances of burning weeds sweet
smoke of it replete
addendum to our natural life
like the warmest winter there could be
in a complicated world of conveniency
that increases our cost over time
has little redeeming value
and only fosters resiliency
survival skills
for an otherwise native River Han
dykes of which to help the farmers
prevent deterioration of fields of crops
benefiting me with my back to the road
well-equipped man in a modern world
with such a heavy load
in case i need an escape to nature
January 8, 2017
sitting on laurels and acting hardy
is no way to enjoy a new year's party
there are backstabbing friends who need an inch
friends who love you in a cinch
crippled in last year's Jerry marathon
of abbots who heard Costello's mistrals
gone homo on empty stomachs
smartly read book-Marx too hot to Trotsky
waving rainbow flags with white backlashes
impolite eyelashes
stopping behind the judge's bench
testifying their rudeness
through all the newness
like an unwatched television overnight
a travel writer's infomercial's
pressing need to be public
on way to his next global mess
when the river knows best
in all weather flows
day and night throughout the years
listen to its trickling stream
through sound bites of motor tires
drowning a countdown video chat to Connecticut
Messenger image dark-orange and ghoulish
set against lush green Taiwan gardens
backdrop of this American escapee
in a place where wonders never cease
and wisdom never ends
turning the calendar up
return to day one again
new year's day in warmth
hazy breeze sifting the air
lifting the bicycle into outer space
spiked canteen of permanent dreams
an all-star on deck with assisted vision
unmasked suggestion box glistening
on the wings of yellow butterflies
fluttering by in pairs of proximity
just like my lady and me
January 1, 2017
crystallize the dew in cold breezes
as it does over tiny Kyoto roads
into a chilled Nijo-jo Castle moat
rippling green lichen to its stormy sides
looking like raked lines of pebbles
around Shitennoji Temple, Osaka
lines of sunshine in Golden Pavilion pond
shingled roof of Buddah Hall in Todaiji, Nara
far from the melted exhaustion
of deep-fried Taichung night markets
like smoke from rice-stalk bonfires, rising slowly
shrouding mountains in smog-saturated air
obscuring the fine gal she would become
a widowed bride's dalliance
upon remarriage
Dec. 19, 2016
lost in time in Sheepshead Bay
substitute Taiwanese with Russians
replace cement rectangles with mansions
potato and rice paddy for smoked fish and salads
egrets for terns
motorbikes for baby bumpers
fireworks for horns and sirens
prolific writer with writer's block
in the chill of summer
in the winter bare
Jamaica Bay farewell
literally unconscious
sea bells squinting, zephyr quaint
cannabis high tide seventies
evolving revolving readily
fearlessly alone on the rocky shore
a prince in king's borough with one glass slipper
attending to balls behind metal zippers
fruitful like a fishing boat, staying afloat
until our family returned to port
with a flow of night crawlers off the hook
diving bell pressures of a classroom,
no chapbook, no time to look
no energy arousing passion
and what is more
kept my hands off the closing doors
kept my mind on emergency cords
face crushed against a Q train window
hoping the last stop is not Coney Island frantic
but beautiful Taiwan island romantic
with dragonflies, butterflies opening eyes
a gentler Han River Atlantic
green mountains blocking the glaring sun
of a fateful Brooklyn well beyond
December 4, 2016
sing, all ye Han River birds at dusk
play tag around guzheng tall grass
bent like guitar strings in Beck's Bolero
chase your wet shadows across glistening rocks
race your kindred spirit across the stream
hide and seek in Taichung terrarium
hover, dive, and soar on shore
over bikers elongated in the setting sun
over earth masters stretched to the breaking point
dance the two-wing shuffle o'er man-made ledges
be loud and fast in our absence
making sense out of nonsense
sing ye wing'd heroes of nature
play melodies over road motor mumble
bring scenes of gleaming greens and bowing boughs
as the sun sinks low to kiss golden patties
to fragile nested shelters fly
when music fades and stars begin to shine
before your orchestra is drowned
in a blanket of headlights and gnats
heralding bats' high frequency song
till aviary diners return at dawn
November 7, 2016
observe the sour wild strawberry
green and lowdown
growing in the happy garden
nurtured until plump
squirreled behind chicken wire
weeded and watered
until ready to be plucked
but eaten away by ants
never got the chance
Han River banks are overgrown
hiding myriad screeching birds
bending boughs of tall grass
singing songs in the soft Tan-Zih breeze
even egrets swoop to land
hear the brisk cacophony
well prepared for winter
unlike the sour wild strawberry
breezily, the rice stalks dream into
crackling pops of dissipation
boy-shaped cloud drifts
from skies of mother earth
under her skirt
attached to a sustaining runner
a sour wild strawberry revealed
consuming the fumes of fragrant nights
November 5, 2016
