At dusk near
Sunset and night fall
I see I farmers Field
Look barren as the talklamakan desert
In the middle of autumn
I think of my ancestors
From east Turkestan

A vintner of aged leaves in the wine-press of the sun,
Thin-skinned like the lucent grapes from the vine-runs
Of the island trellises and teal-cordoned waves, lowest slung
Fruit-laden bough of sky, Sicily, whose ateliers of rolled cigarettes
And uprolled sleeves like tides tease smoke into studio paints,
The black apple wine of storm made into mouthfuls of pulp rain,
Before the sunrise is gathered again in fishing nets and crab pots,
The coastal towns with their salted roofs of pied clay and pigeons
Along the lava stone streets, and night from the chanteuse of Egypt,
Singing her coral to heron, as when her bird-like barefooted slaves
Left tracks across Old Kingdom wastes, so this dreaming old man
Leaves his wrinkles to these grapes and across the sand-island pillow,
Asleep with his fathers, hay-hauling peasants of wandering darkness.

Our family tree
Woah is me
Has termites

No pictures to prove
Who is who
Boo hoo hoo

Should it matter
Would it make us sadder
If we searched the history of us

Would we find
We are royalty
Or just of the toilet seat

We might find the dad
Who went away
Or was just led astray

Find the town
We are from
Exact locations say some

A can
Of worms
Or just deserts

Do we have to know
Will it make us
Grow

Maybe all we need
Is these little seeds
Of us now to plant

The small tree
Start fresh
Of just you and me

genealogy
family tree treasure hunt—
come to your census

Can I find you past Mount Hua,
After crossing Cao’e River,
Through the fields of Longkou,
Will I be walking for long?

Sat, waiting for the train to go
To take me where I am supposed to be
Head pressed against the cold window
I want that seat.

Lost among the frames
And paths between stones
You should be somewhere among
The busy laying down of flowers
I want to know

A fickle not fitting anywhere
A missing piece,
Just wandering.


Who do I owe my existence to.
Who brought me here.
I would kneel down to you
And offer my deepest gratitude

Tired of floating up in the air
Just whisked around by the wind.
The tree with roots is stronger
The clouds so lonely.

Breezing by, the single leaf
Stuck in this one state
I’ll walk alone with my two legs
Don’t worry, I’ll continue to go
But where are you?

The people who came before me
Blocks of my past
You’re going too far
I’m lost.

This voice,
The voice formed
Trying to reach out
It’s calling out
It can’t let go,
Where it came from.

Every sunshine,
Every storm,
It surrounds us
Brings us to life.
I’ll always look up
And see it like you.

Going past Mount Hua
Alone among the clouds
Who put me here
I want to know.

I’ll travel long
And so far,
I’ve been walking for long.

I’ll put my respects
Will you see me
I won’t be disappointed
I’ll lay down everything
Just to have my place.

Left away
Those a part of me
I’m walking through the path
But where are you?

Parade of bones, ride high
Filling up the whole sky,
Past where my hands can't reach.

Bleached by sun and twisting,
Hanging like chimes singing.
Dance on, something like free.

You'll be gone tomorrow,
Split and cracked for marrow,
Pouring out your lifeblood.

Down below, the living
Never got forgiving,
And it sure ain't easy.

My Dakota plains
Broken by clusters of trees
That surround farms
Connected by black thin lines
Draped between poles
That follow roads

Or a shortcut across fields
On giant steel mannequins
Standing watch over
Corn, beans, sunflower
Or cows or horses
Or sheep

On My Dakota prairie
With rich black dirt
That feed crops
And sustain our towns
Our clusters of life
Our family and self.

I go the land
Of my ancestors
The Himalayas
To bet with my brethren
And hope to find love
And enlightenment
As the prayer flags fly
I smile.