so unlike the Danube with its pride

so unlike the Danube with its pride
its Kepler and Holy Roman seat
its Schikaneder Magic Flute
its Palm Sunday ass ceremony
its Rheingold Hapsburg
Walhalla wax museum's 
thirty-year of war tribute

here near the Han of Taichung
nothing is so shock and awe
a cell phone store clerk's 
child almost drowned at work
a drunken uncle was a jerk
fell off a bridge he cycled o'er
not by River Han be killed

Japanese colonists near the Han and
Mainland Chinese Kuomintang
lined up and shot Taiwanese whose
swept bodies strait into the breeze
died of rape and left for fleas
unlike homeboy Rommel's
Danube forest funeral

5-23-15

plum rains tug on my shoulder

plum rains tug on my shoulder
like a friend who does not want me to leave
"you ain't going nowhere,
because you're already here"
blissful mist of morning horizon
slippery patio garden of delight as
days slide sideways-in from night

i used to be a soldier
in the trenches of muddy loyal infamy,  
withstood the bombardment,
with messy mess kit ready for duty,
until the duty turned beautiful;
like a marriage second time as
passing clouds spill pure pink brine.

branches laid bare, bare leaves,
in the Taiwan sun downpour,
Han River swells to frightful proportions
candy-coated work scooters on the roads
mesmerized in headlights of the oncoming 
newspapers' delivering
oily rainbow river-ring 

5-22-15

after you have arrived

going nowhere is great
after you have arrived
nowhere to go
is why you are staying on

i am not turning around
to tap you on your shoulder

be surprised if i come by to visit

you know where i will be

if we are in each other's future
we will remember who we are

i sit and write on this Han River bench
despite you
not because of you

you do not exist
you are a fat ghost to me

you are not my equal

you may enter my office
in the restaurant booth
if you will

5-7-15

heading back to Brooklyn excited

heading back to Brooklyn excited
reason to visit the land of my birth
to make ourselves homeless in Brooklyn
no family left there, and few friends behind
filling a pothole in the Brooklyn of my mind

as the world opens wide
to where Peruvian chickens roam, 
Indian curry, Arabic babaganoush,
and Italian pizza thrive,
a big world from Brooklyn outside 

as both feet are planted in Taiwan
the story is heard and the writs are served 
divvy up the proceeds, make investments,
charities and downtown Taichung revitalization
my children's future and a wife's realization 

with pocket change to bike where i like
freedom to spend if the twain does not meet
doctor bills, recreational thrills
the two of us riding off into the sunset
chores done before Somerset Maugham fun-set 

5-5-15

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