Plum rains won’t quench Lantan Lake

Plum rains won’t quench Lantan Lake,

But typhoons will work it out in this year of drought.

Incessant downpours will come so hard and long

That we will stay indoors,

Windows rattling, doors howling

So much so that Lantan’s waterline rings,

Like the age of a tree shaped vertically,

Will become a memory sliced perpendicularly.

As every inlet is covered over, beaches vanish.

As the lake gets bloated.

Spillway channel fills to the rim

Tumbling down the slope to the valley below

Viaduct useless for such spillage

Into Renyitan Reservoir haphazardly

Through a highway over the dam

Then randomly into Bazhang River wham bam!

Meandering water snake skirting Chiayi

Into the Taiwan’s Strait, like a tsunami.

Yes, that August deluge is hard to imagine

In the throes of water-rationed parched Formosa

One-hundred degree days of electrical strain

In the thick and thin of life’s vicissitude,

But those bends and growth signal change

The amazing landscape of long distance vistas

Alishan Mountain to the east, its crowning creation

Rippling green water coaxed by a windy hand

Tall bamboo drooping down to the forest shore

And when the rain finally comes,

I will be witness and recipient of the might

How the moon rises across the lake sky night

How the stars shine bright tinged in watery moonlight

The subtle mystery blinded by overexposed daylight

But with her night light, her mystery grows

Pulsar of hearts in faith in sync

Storm ridden outward we no longer wait to hear

Bamboo wind’s rubbing xylophone percussion

Echoing around its glistening surface gleaming

The surprise of nature’s passionate kiss

Into substantive bliss steaming

May 20, 2021

Comments

On the Road Again

See Live First Rendition Here If I say it once, I’m thinking aloud. If I say it twice, I probably like the sound. Three times said, you know I’d be glad. When the fourth time comes, she’d better run. I take the fifth for what I’d do If my desires don’t come true. Multiplied by ten, I’m on the road again. Life is too short to be faking All the love we should be making. When I picked you out, you knew what to do, When you chose me, you certainly could see I wasn’t one who’d regret what I’d done Following the world around the sun, That’s how it was back then. Now I’m on the road again. We never should retire when life inspires. Never look away when love comes to play. It’s better to feel wanted than taken for granted. Plants need watering to grow where they are planted, Or else they wither and blow away, Scattering seeds somewhere another day, Another place conductive to stay, A place to grow a new stem, I’m on the way; on that road again. It is no use sitting around and wond...

Biking Taitung and Beyond

Waves crash the shore at every bikeway spur fisherman wondering if they'll catch more surprises to the menu like paths of Taitung that lead around the city might catch something unexpected on abandoned railroad lines that cross downtown streets as we cycle discovering what is pretty with no destination out of reach, locally we move on byways and paths and dream of overseas rides into black forests and Amsterdam streets Moroccan tundras American Appalachian trails British Wessex Hardy excursions and Paris Versailles in the French Countryside riding discovering like climbing peaks for no other reason than that they're there so we go and watch the trees bending saying hello on paths on Taitung city roads And when we return to home body studying languages, expanding horizons, Dutch and Mandarin, English and French on a desk in a study or living room on the internet with friends oh the daily life of simple people living and loving without greed or contempt is the life I choose to fo...

The Mantra of the Air Con

The mantra of the air con When I call on it to brisk me Wakeful eyes stare at bedroom skies It comes alive with wishing sounds Of the coolest oscillation in my head The smooth machine friendly bed partner When I'm alone with the light red Oh it is winding up the spiral helix Rising the whistle of excitement As I lie grabbing anything too cold To not let me fall through the soggy bottom Of lukewarm loneliness and despondency Sharing the platform with freedom and liberty Going hand in hand with my singularity How wonderful it would feel to wrap My arms around your wing'ed flaps Touch your goosebumped body As air con envelops us in a cocoon Makes us smooth, sleek Your breath in my ear not cold or metallic But pleasing and steady with regular humanity The steady hum of the air con turns me on Back up through the stages I descend Cool air heights of the pen in hand Living in t...

Taiwan Providence

Search This Blog