The River in a Dog Year

the river so low fish cannot swim

egret flocks to the fields instead

a man can ford with dry pants

and see mossy spots to avoid the dance

low clouds squeezed dry in the north

hang in waiting wind to blow southward

 the raised mug of Gregorian beer

toasts the eve of  lunar year

dry days done for cleaning house

youngsters on recess fascinated

become adept at renewal learned

midnight fireworks, demons spurned

on the third day do not socialize

we keep our big mouths shut

or risk on the shore loping by

a red dog's wrathful eye  

then the potato harvest is picked

rice is returned to the paddies

what makes folk and farmers happy

a warm spring season of plenty

life dribbles like melting snow in March

pools depleted, beaches deserted

all wait indoors for the thrill

as plum rains replace the winter chill

torrents from mountain streams gush

as the dog year grows from a whimper 

before it learns to bark

take a walk with it in a  park

 until the river gets fed full again

and this year's dog  rears its head

 a fine Taiwanese breed

a mighty canine, indeed 

sleepy days of mosquitoes ahead

the dog this year lays down its fears

sweltering dusk of fruit bat hunter

on a river beach in Taichung summer 

when the autumn moon shines down
upon the abundant River Han
dogs are there to guard creation
protecting notions of our nation

January 31, 2018
www.readingsandridings.jimdo.com
Copyright © 2018 by David Barry Temple. All rights reserved.

stepping on stones in archipelago

hurrah for eight wheels turning
on the snack cart rolling down the aisle
each inch of travel
every sound and sight 
picking wild oat fields clean
as new seeds are sown

how are those new parents and baby?
where is Cebu? Where am i going?
Mandarin spoken in the seat to the left
English pulp novel read to the right
the plane angles thirty degrees upward
outside the terminal window

charging the cellphone at the stand
habitually awaiting no one's call 
better have habit of traveling for fun
two hours air Taipei to Mactan-Cebu 
a thousand miles; eighty more miles to Oslob
road-weaving round trikes in five hours with luck 

Bisaya speaking Philippines
when a good day is stepping on stones
in crystal waves of archipelago 
far from horse latitude attitude
tonguing each bubble in foamy caps
this is a good day! 

January 14, 2018
www.readingsandridings.jimdo.com
Copyright © 2018 by David Barry Temple. All rights reserved.

black-headed egret sticks out her neck

black-headed egret sticks out her neck

reveals her graceful curves

sees further up the River Han

beyond gifts and adulation

wiser than a Christmas magician

when her wings spread wide to fly  

head tucked into her heart

in aerodynamic need

folding at Godspeed

she understands not a word of human flattery

like the alkaline rusting of an old battery

taking off and swooping to the next touchstone

integral nature in her buoyant bones

bewitching in a common river 

like Moses among the reeds

raised by sun-bleached Egyptian 

this black-headed egret fulfills life’s mission

parts the waters to Sinai with her beak

spilling out Taiwanese dreams when she speaks

December 26, 2017 

for Samantha 

Asia Winter Baseball League

the home team is Taiwan against Japan

like anywhere else, they win if they have more runs

the naked ballgame

removed of all the gambling players

the lazy bums

that wound up going through the motion...

i balk at go-go girls on the dugout roofs

p.a. barkers with headache-echo sound effects

L.E.D. technicolor screams 

sore-throated game-enders...

but in Taiwan there is baseball during Hanukkah

the miracle of extra innings burns

on a gentle evening breeze flagging right field

free admission first time families will not forget

a foul ball in the hands of a joyful child

whose parents cared to take her out to the ballgame

a change-up thrown to new hometown fans

buddies, couples, and solo score-card statisticians

who enter the stadium with bags unsuspected 

no one taking attendance

such is the beautiful game of diamond rules

in any language school

playing hooky’s cool

for your information

for my entertainment

not for some teachers’ presentation

the blues and whites in uniform

written on their backs in cuneiform

our hitter in the pinch of time

a salve for a stiff brain

sees us winnin’ every game 

December 14, 2017 

CD Lover Blues

(sung to the tune of "Third Degree" by Willie Dixon)

press her start-up button

my baby likes to play

shocks that came a-jarrin’

stopped her along the way

refrain:

bad love, turnin’ bad love

the kind that was a-thrillin’ me

when her spinning disc came rollin’

is now only killin’ me

i could ride her up a river

fetch water for the day

her juices kept on flowin’

now she never goes all the way

(refrain)

from analog to M>P 4 her

it kept our love alive

but the highs and lows were muffled

i guess we could survive but…

(refrain)

i had a notion to replace her

Phillip-ed out with a new black face

but when the L>E>D said "No C>D"

i had to put her back in her place

(refrain)

i was sorry that i'd left her

in silent inner grooves

i packed the black to give it back

but when i got home she done moved

(refrain)

so i play my babe defective

she sings for me when she can

can’t stop the shocks that closed her shop

but she is still my only woman

refrain:

bad love, turnin’ bad love

the kind that was a-thrillin’ me

when her spinning disc came rollin’

is now only killin’ me

December 3, 2017

the rippling wind that scatters blues away

the rippling wind that scatters blues away

when the weather becomes cool in Taiwan

as an egret drops a  wet vapor trail 

yonder freight train of clouds
 southbound down the strait

with  dust from a Chinese factory

leaves breath to cleanse Taichung

too bright for sunglasses

brisk for a sweatshirt over shorts

hold on to  your hat of Brooklyn nets

like a dream catcher filtering impurities

from a whirlwind tour of insecurities

dribbling beetle nut juices on the court

glistening red angels of panic

pushing me home without pedaling

in sync with nature’s meddling

further closure with its settling

November 18, 2017

a tropical autumn sun gleams

a tropical autumn sun gleams

from an iridescent sky

over freshly sheared rice paddy lines

of embedded bunches of amber straw

left after the rice harvester 

picked lingeringly clean by pigeons 

as a golden bantam rooster crows nearby

chicks and hens strutting across the path

the air growing cooler as they grow older

and still paying no attention to humans 

one of whom is on the bench

looking dead but only sleeping

awakened indiscriminately

as the suns in the hazy sky floats down

its lowering rays dip into my eyes

my bicycle wheels start leaving

with the head i am turning 

November 15, 2017