Three Rivers and a Canal

Danube 
sitting on a Black Forest bench
spitting in currents of antisemitic yearnings 
the unsung Byzantine
Middle World of Islam rising
emptying Eurocentricity  

Erie Canal
underground railroad to Seneca Falls
submerged under Van Cleef Lake
Empire State of lost factories 
through to the Hudson Lower Eastside
Sandy sewer Sheepshead Bay 

Colorado 
once wild like Powell
one-armed portage explorer
down the twisted great unknown
through the Grand Canyon
to thirsty Californians

Han-Xi
awaiting a downgraded typhoon
to quench a sixty-seven year drought
insure that she never runs dry
wet with tears of compassion
see-saw atop volcanic Taiwan mountains

4-6-15

i don't know what you're talking about!

i don't know what you're talking about!

one God, 
man made others.

men can believe what they wish
even if they sever
enemies at the neck.

what the heck?

didn't the U.S. enslave?
put millions of Native Americans
to early graves?

who are you to say?

your nuclear bombs!
not mine?

your sweatshops enrich
only every son-of-a-bitch!

i am a wandering Jew

in love with a place to stay,
my people exodus on moving day.

who are you to welcome me home?

leave me alone!

birds with coats 
no longer reach the sky.

who do you think you are?

who do you think i am? 

progress takes me only so far.
i'm not buying it!

it leaves me in a leaky boat.
barely afloat.

what was that you said?

i would rather leave into the desert,

end up dead,

or start a civilization.


3-5-15

a train of seven white butterflies

there goes a train of

seven white butterflies

pairs entwining tying ribbons

round milky sun-streaked skies

into nose-dives spiraling

around a wild shrub

pleasantly surprised at tiny yellow florets 

which with antennae rub

on excursion sightseeing

feeling spring terrain

without a thought or care

in their primitive brain

from ether they do come

hidden in the soil

for pollen and for nectar

before the Taiwan boil

an adolescent egret lands

skims a Han River shore

while anarchistic beetles

create from chaos more 

not a person with white terror 

stops for nature's play

they would rather wait in lines

of cars this holiday

2-28-15

  

chew on this

old men need not eat that much
too much food only makes us sick
back in the day when food was scarce
the lion's share was given to the youth
as old men's lives withered away
completely spent
with heaven closing in
the bowl was passed
not wasted on the wasting away

old men do not need a tooth
pearly white for the ladies
shiny clean hygiene 
or fresh minty breath
with nothing left that needs chewing
no romance ahead that needs doing
useless carbohydrates
red protein meat
slimy clams of erectile zinc

old men avoid the tender side of mouths
tonguing the mush into other cheeks
we favor the side that causes less pain
until the better side breaks down, too
overworked
what are we to do?
at the end of days
in old men's nights
there are two broken sides 

let youth ignorant of dentists be wise
do every action with big trusty smiles
speak every dumbfounded word aloud
every wad of bubblegum proud
every jaw-breaker and beetle nut 
let old men waste not your food
with precious little time 
we save our spit for washing down pills
that solidify our orchestrated movement

2-11-15

we did it our way in Siem Reap

we did it our way in Siem Reap
look how happy we were!
cannot ruin it with complaints
so what that the guide knew no English?
so what that i could not grasp the Mandarin?
only one concession i needed:
a tuk-tuk to the night market
without a tisk
to the happy balcony at once
we
like two flickering ivory moths 
singling out nothing, blaming no one
two Tin-Tin's along lumpy Cambodian roads 
red dust flying in our adventurous faces
doing it our way
choosing the place, the date, the return...
next time colonial British facades in Rangoon 
excite me more ancient Khmer tombs
all irrelevant in the sunshine of our noon
in killing fields void of flowering scents
our love still in bloom

(happy valentine's day)

2-10-15


   

there is a secret

there is a secret

the dumb and lost must share

being born gives you no right

to being here

you must fight for that right

until the very end

no one can help you

not even a friend

if you cannot live

there must be a reason why

try the advice of one who loves you

before you die

you can continue on your way

or take a detour

that is what forks in the road

are divided for

sometimes you are flying high

then are gone in a flash

do not wallow in the sluggish mud

to never make a splash

whether you find happiness or not
my secret is true

around every bend

it is only and always up to you

when the night is lonely

and there is nothing to be said

you must arise

find a different bed

when work is done

with nothing you can show

you must fight for your rights

or find a new place to go

if by fate a fatal illness

tries to take your time

there are still other options

to occupy your mind

if you have been slighted

by a wrong unrighted 

take no revenge

but walk the road as i did

do not be denied

if justice makes you mighty

when you have listened

to your heart and friend tidy

change your longitude and latitude

do not prolong a failure

do not carry a defeated attitude

get out of the sour sea, sailor

always give God your gratitude

and live for making love

that is how it happens

with the grace from the Lord up above

1-24-15

Han River Poems cover