an ode to my feet

Butterfly Foot Video

white feet up to the sock line

tan legs from ankles to shorts

too long shrouded from the river

 an ode to my feet is taught

odorless and not too sweet

walking with them cannot be beat

and when peddling away

let me repeat

there is no better way for us to meet

this may sound flat-footed so to speak

but i have a ball with the sole of my feet

never a heel in the agony of defeat

look a little closer at my tootsies

as they bake in the Taichung sun

the crooked pointer toes

bent from years of tight-fitted shoes

leaning away from the thumb toe grows

that is how the story goes

what will become of the fungus nail

that the poor left thumb toe must bear

with flip-flops on for all to see

i do not have vanity or care

in Taiwan’s open-footed trends

all-season naked to their friends

come out smelling like roses

the other end of peoples’ noses

and any angle from a chair

my pair look quite complete

like any other pair i meet

but my pair grow no hair

none i would care to tweet

i walk them here, i walk them there

down busy city streets for hours

up mountain trails

wet in swimming pools

steamed in saunas or soaped in showers

bound in Chuck Taylors

inside multi-colored Cons

laced tightly ‘round the ankles

kept from tangling bicycle pedals

in socks tucked folded down

spinning inches from the ground

my feet are safe and sound

tortured not by jogging pound

this is how i get around

barefoot strolls in Taiwan summer

no danger here of broken glass

but beware of bites from strangers

hiding in the weeds and grass

and when sore feet need therapy

to blind men in the Taipei metro go

acupuncture from masseuses

or do it myself rubbing slow

though some may think that too retro

from footbath to footpath run

from ocean to burning sand

between my toes on a blanket goes

kicking out the jams

on a beach chair tap a tune

or dancing with my mama

around the living room

only feet appreciate

a foot would understand

no marching off to war for them

that is where i make my stand

on the sacred home ground

side-stepping goose-stepping

my partner’s feet unbound

rubbing her toes tenderly

wiggling and tickling her

and pinching her hounds

when no one is around

walking knee-deep down a river

sliding on pebbles, slipping on stones

in the coolness of a emerald quarry pond

dive feet of tired bones

or immersed in a mountain stream 

an aboriginal dream 

through a forest of lush green ink

but when there is no natural setting

bathe them in a sink

July 4, 2017

a river is never angry

the river is not angry as it stumbles to the sea
tall grass grown so high in my absence
outcome of drinking three weeks binge
of daily torrential plum rain downpours
the river passes its muddy torrent
holding back none of the pain
in life i must be the same

hissing wind sings a song
masking what was going on
birds' wings batter the sky like a ladder
swoop through tree limbs and in the river patter
the muddy journey set for me
tossed houses like pebbles downstream
in life's evil uprooted foundations

wisps breeze passed currents climbing hills
as scooter mufflers grind the night
driving drunken on the way to fights 
in flights from what is naturally given 
unaware of a river's blissful dream 
the mock we see of liberty
unrestrained power crushing mercilessly

walking man can walk without a cane
bikes can be ridden without fashion
consciousnesses changeable without ration
like a river sweeping silt to its rocky bottom 
caressing boulders of obstruction 
progressive forward motion i know
but unlike a river, i can grow

tossed by upward drafts and cast upon the shore
pests are thrown upon their backs 
wiggling writhing legs in death's throes
i watch them struggle to upright themselves
in the river's blind expulsion of impurities
keeping none of the vile within its flow
as in life, to parasites, no mercy goes

eyes on the road and hands on the handlebar
riding the river like hugging my lover
heading for a good time home 
oblivious to tracks i left behind 
like a river, deaf to what i am told
feeling every trace of you on me

unlike the river, starting over if need be

June 24, 2017

why ride on four wheels when two will do

why ride on four wheels when two will do?

why use polluting motors when you can peddle?

on family outings, use a train or bus

with friends together it saves

the environment from waves of smog

the industrial revolution made life more convenient

made living inconvenient for exploited workers

whose families depend on them for support

while they were eaten by the system

that paid half to kill the other half

living ghosts float by my eyes

thanks to comments on friendly posts

like a science teacher who justified

global warming for arctic shipping lanes

with whom i have no intention of starting a chat

contributing to death by sorrowful rottenness

there is relief in not seeing ghosts in the flesh

by rejecting dependency on them
we did not twist the minds of our kids

children who needed attention

poisoned effects of separation

without closure from an estranged mother

a narcissistic reality inherently corrupts

disabling a homeopathic state of mind

minding counseling in the states.

living in the fantasy of novel writing

is a safe remedy for a pensioner with a wife

who is comfortable at home

and does not feel the need to travel

even riding on four wheels instead of two

if the weather were not threatening rain

having taken great pains to make facts jive

at what point in my evolution

will removing me from the cauldron

of the sulfur kings cool my coals?

May 29, 2017  

Grandpa rowed me on the Prospect Park Lake

Grandpa rowed me on the Prospect Park Lake

before barbecues were left to smolder

and Flatbush Avenue begged for renaissance

as graduates sweated speeches on broken velvet chairs

in historically tarnished Lowe’s Kings Theater

Erasmus Hall schoolhouse survived deterioration

Titus Oaks record bins were depleted and restocked

Linden Boulevard librarians climbed rolling ladders

being successfully middle-class was all that mattered

blackouts turned into clear-outs

the signs were in the strain

in cloudy minds on sunny days

the time to move-on came

of sold-out yesterdays 

and overstocked tomorrows

we readied to get packed

from prosperity into a developing nation

till twin towers toppled into dust bowls 

and dropped us through the cracks

April 29, 2017

river now

river views are best before the bend
within a wide swath of deceptive greenery
water rushes past to a dam
filled with memories of winding mountain streams

hidden from Taichung squalor beyond the fall
roads round its dykes like a race track
circling Fengyuan in the distance
so unlike a river replenishing itself

with no intention of turning back
i find nature by biding time 
oblivious to what is out of sight
or making plans with ideas

in every moment here and now
like tall grass that bends in shallow breeze
clouds shade the sun passing by 
as the river turns dark and light

April 18, 2017

dogs begin to bark all over my neighborhood

dogs begin to bark all over my neighborhood

fish converge in the ocean

earthworms surface in droves

but birds still call each other near the Han

box elder true bugs invade and congregate

from a parched potato field near a mountain

barely seen through shrouding smog

neighbors careless about what i am attending

going wrong ways up one-way streets

as i notice every bird’s different colored wings

though drivers on cell phones ignore approaching ambulances

and parents of noisy adolescents choose to wear headphones

i am wide-eyed as global temperatures fluctuate

even pick a few potatoes before it is too late

one kind step in the direction of someone i love

one stroke of genius in swimming pool laps

pedaling  bicycle wheel revolutions

that is the best solution 

March 20, 2017

the river flows south in flatlines to the strait

the river flows south in flatlines to the strait

as bicyclists peddle briskly against the wind

up slopes that youthful riders cope 

restlessly reaching their peaks

until aging stumbles them downstream

pooling up at dams

wild horse wheels galloping 

sliding day into night over ends

o to be youthfully invincible

compensating for every error

fumbling through every endeavor

without becoming devoured

to pulse a youthful heart of heated air

rising like white butterflies on thermal drafts

like spirits flitting to and fro

overcoming every crosswind blow

gravitational enemy of time

as over the falls we eventually go

washed up driftwood and polluted

to rise in the sun shaft over the ledge

March 11, 2017