winding river, never straight
straying from the big debate
at the motor humming factory
that does not use your energy
just pours into and weakens the river
the next eventuality around the bend
will reach me like a dear old friend
revelry snaps ham radio's waves
a dinner for the Jewish slave
i will snorkle shallow, scuba deep
by vermillion cliffs of Page made deep
the trough gets worn down, rivers seep
like the moaning at open microphones
zoned for fossils' broken bones
at home in red room all alone
as Crusoe, Fogg, and Polo do
Friday, Passepartout, Nicolo & Maffeo are you
a journey unmeasurable in distance or time meant
not gold or spices or elephant
worth fines levied against me to be on my way
on my way like the rivers that people all pass
a doer, a giver, a home, and a lass
the shore lined with circuses
the onions many surfaces
by living have i done to deserve this
so wind, you Han River, onward wind
please to us be gentle and kind
though squeezed by sooty motor roads
and channeled by heavy overloads
thy will be done, as it is, like heaven
11-22-14
in honor of today's fresh air
ride the Han without a mask
drink the oxygen in
let the wind seethe
around my knees
with respect to rare stars seen at night
look forthrightly though opened eyes
the dark blue contrasted with twinkling bright
sore vision's remarkable sight
not squint and rub
even bursts of burning hay
in the azure blown away
trash of Buddha ash dissolved
skyward silky streaks of soot
in pants of heaven pockets
the Han in khakis slipping away
stops to reconsider
in irreversible streams
in dreams it seems
then blue skies turn to gray
leaves on distant mountain trees
i'm petrified to look
are gone again before the dawn
sharpness being not the norm
once was there once more
11-16-14
my good life has a lot to do with yours
if it is not your period
or the coffee brewed
then it must be you making me bitter
i see your friend in Hokkaido
vacationing with her husband
when you couldn't book us a room, you said
yet you made plans to visit Tokyo without me
you dressed like it was cleaning day
to see a free outdoor concert
and wore the same costume
for the Halloween party afterwards
without clear plans or directions
you scoff at my suggestion for a snack
but stop at a night market on the way
without a map for getting back
there's cigarette smoke in the night club
you're bothered by it and then
instead of doing your part to make it smart
find it better to do nothing again
noise i made chasing the cat off the tree
woke you up from your sleep
was more annoying to you
than the cat was to me
your midnight was noon in an e-mail you wrote
with our daughter cold in an unheated furnace
it left you off the hook
instead of getting you by the throat
thinking how lonely i am without friends
at least, unlike you, i'm trying to meet them
i'm stuck with some creeps that deny me
and peers that blow me off
the windy north-westerlies kick up the soil
from rice patties harvested and barren
i'm kicking up dust in my yearning
while the fire inside is churning
my good life to do
has less to do with you
it is not the life i would wish
but you're not putting enough on my dish
my life, like piss on an elevator floor
goes up and goes down with nowhere to roll
unlike rushing waters near the shallow Han
or nooks where still waters run deep
the butterflies scorn me
the pigeons cannot fly into the wind
it makes my life wonderfully windy
i sail on the breeze of my wife
whichever way she blows me
11-3-14
does a bird have to fly near your face
to bring you back?
does a dragonfly need an arrow to point
meaning "follow me?"
you cannot be distracted by nature
only returned to
away from what has distracted you
like measly meddlers
muddy boot prints
art sales and royalties
starring attractions being famous
or unknown
progress
or regression
instead of 'being here now' suggestions
through mouths to feed
submissions to
oppressions abounding
requiring resounding fortitude
to pass through the night
when nothing seems right
and catch the distraction
that workers might
10-27-14
it's not very clear
how the hand-driven plow
turns the soil gray
how it putters and smokes
stumbling along the patties where
bonfires of rice stalks ash the land
send the smoke sky high
like in a bedroom at midnight
choking while we're toking
on hits and bongs and incense burning
smoke hiding abstract smoke signals
only scooters fumes here, uninspired
un-inspected
like cigarettes drooping from motor mouths
oily smoke from mothers on wheels
godly smoke blown heavenward
and acid smoke from across the strait in China
smoke in dead air pockets
choking mountains
cataract mountains
fumigation
egrets and dragonflies
in need of ventilation
my son's pain doesn't affect her
to sympathy or love
it tarnishes the warmth
that took a weekend to brew
the intruder she confused
as i fended and took a bite
what did she place on the table
but bitter herbs
and waited to hear me say 'how sweet'
as my son shuffled back to the basement
no natural interest at all
what made the tears so salty
with a cross to bearably bear
she coexisted
his sisters insisted
grandma and auntie resisted
so she threw her pain into my lap
for me to drain away
after years of saplings
as tall as the trees would grow
still no affection
just a drag from undertow
couldn't see two crazy lovers
loving each other crazily
not unlike her and me
and the love that bore fruit in time
10-6-14
am i made whole by this delivery from Brooklyn
as migratory birds flock south over the Han
over the mountains of Taiwan
i am grounded
not the movable type
books that follow me till death we part
with pages that swing
from the past into the future
look at all the migratory verbs
and me, like a dragonfly of indecision
hovering in tandem with my rider
resting on pages of unpublished rhyme
10-3-14
