Having a cold
fighting with the wife
blinded by the sun
excuses are abundant

Yet this little bird
sings the morning
into gold

Beating gongs and drums

they celebrate light
in a world
where black
is white

dusty and exhausted
the poor old road
keeps pleading for some rest

but the boys
keep laughing and shouting
and drag him down the hill

Hi. I am Art Buchwald
and I just died

          no sooner had he finished his last words
          than I heard a baby’s first cry

Hi. I am Art Buchwald
and I was just born

standing like this
(they call it immortality)
with a frozen smile and ponderous medals
is more barbaric
than lying in state
with a red rose on my chest

at dawn, two lovers awakened at my feet
and began reciting the beautiful engraved lies
between kisses and laughs
there was a sharp pain in my chest
at the very spot where the first ray of light hit
at the very spot where they pinned the red rose

now
your mouths must stay away
from this big bowl
and go to the ocean
to assume your own responsibility

or to another shore
to make lots of money
that will stuff up your pockets
and your souls
and let your heads stay forever in the hothouse
so well-fed and well-clad
that you won't have to think of today
or tomorrow

*Before an experiment on dolphin communication with humans was terminated,  scientists had to train the two dolphins that were used in the experiment so that they could survive in the ocean.

every marble column stands *****
reaching to heaven

day after day tourists
gather in front of the temple
to hear young guides
give the oracle

at the very beginning
a bass horn hummed from the left ear
merging with the shrieking violin from the right
climbed to the mountaintop
then howling and roaring
together they rushed down and swept across the wilderness
soon they were scooped up and held in midair
waiting for the conducting baton
to drop

I  laugh a thousand laughs

in the morning wind

my whole body shakes and trembles

-- he always says

a chubby woman will bring good luck



casting my shadow to the ground

I raise my head and find your burning gaze

like all the men I have loved

Built at the border of our hearts
this wall of the 21st century will grow  
drawing nourishment from all dark corners
of human nature
to become the Great Wall
of America

Hold it!
are you trying to come in
or get out

Buying

unwrapping
the package
layer
after
layer

he finds
he has bought himself
a life
of
emptiness


*Selling

he dives
into the sea
of money

when he finds
he can't sell himself
dry
on land

I saw you in Roman Holiday years ago
but you are much thinner now
today is Monday
both you and your master have a day off
the sea horses make no waves
nor the Triton and the chariot

Wishing for a happy return
I stand with my back toward you
as done in the movie
and quickly toss
three five-hundred-lira coins

Hoping they won’t devalue too badly
before they hit bottom

the turkey stretches his n--e----c-------k
unleashing praises stuffed in his breast
like a rapid-fire machine gun

when the next Thanksgiving
is still far off

A wolf
howling at the sky

smells
the bait
inside his fence

drops his tail
and becomes
a dog

Last line of defense
against nakedness

Retreat !

A block of marble
and twenty six letters of the alphabet
etch so many young names
onto history

Wandering alone
amid the mass grave
an old woman has at last found
her only child
and with her eyes tightly shut
her trembling fingers now feel
for the mortal wound
on his ice-cold forehead

seeing the wounds and scars

humans had caused on his body

he shook uncontrollably

and finally opened his mouth

boom!

to let out his burning anger

with mouth wide open
it’s now ready
to spew in your face
the trash of life
it has long
swallowed

it does not know
which direction to point
so many mouths
so many opinions

the whole afternoon
sitting on my neighbor's roof
it just keeps vacillating
and whining

the whole afternoon
I have been waiting
for it to find a foothold
and to point its spearhead of anger
directly at the heart
of the storm

a heart as cold and hard

as an iceberg


our warning hot air

is nothing to him

but a passing breeze

WHITE ORCHIDS



1

under bright sunshine

white wings

flap lightly

in the gentle wind



such a happy day

nobody is willing

to fly away



under the heavy storm

white wings

cling tightly

to mother's *****



such a dreadful day

nobody has the heart

to fly away



2

white wings

open and close

open and close



do you smell

the fragrance

of her breath

I don't know why I write poetry
all I know is that writing poetry makes me rich
enjoying -- not possessing
the ever-expanding universe
without fear of inflation

in the sky --
white clouds
singing larks
whispering wind
the tender moon and twinkling stars

on the ground--
mountains hills plains gullies
lush green red brown yellow
oceans streams lakes ponds
splashing gurgling burbling
the blooming flowers
the vacillating leaves
children's innocent laughter
cats dogs chickens ducks birds
jumping chasing croaking singing
all are parts of my life's fortune

of course, there too are
ferocious dark clouds
harrying eagles
howling storms
withering flowers
roaring guns
and piercing screams
the shadows that lend dimension
to poetry and life

In fact, I don't write poetry
poetry writes me

wind is invisible
yet one can see clearly its whereabouts
ethereal clouds
trembling flowers and grass
bouncing branches of trees
rattling windows
or signs tumbling on the streets

love too is invisible
yet one can find its existence
in a kitten's meow meow
the wagging tail of a little dog
the joyous laughs of children
a warm greeting from a neighbor
or a friendly glance of a stranger
and above all
in a lover's pounding heart

A dashing horse
is always one step
ahead
of the rolling dust

In the Year of the Horse
one ought to make
365
hoofbeats

-- in memory of Senator John McCain

after surviving a POW camp in Vietnam
you return to your country

YES! YOU ARE A HERO

after surviving the prison
of endless human hatred and conflicts  
you return to Heaven

YES! YOU ARE A HERO

rushing up through the feet
a steady flow of fresh vitality
coming from Mother Earth
eventually pushes out of the body
the stagnant air
-- stale, insipid, musty, mildewy, and stinking
that has accumulated overnight
no, over the entire life

look
in the melodious music
bright smiles are blooming
one after another
on the faces of the dancers
who are getting younger
and younger
with every poetic move