Lost & Found


Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children’s faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.
~ Sara Teasdale

4

Stand still.
to let infinity catch up with you
meanwhile the world catches up with you
she’ll pass you soon, you won’t be young
forever, smile, for it happened to us before
the trees ahead now move with nano-helpers
to location more optimal, the flowers bloom
invariably like pretty eyes of the conscious web
you do not have to be good, just love
and move on, attaching yourself to what is universal
true, beautiful, high-minded, pure
how lonely it can be sometimes, no doubt
existence has a harshness and cities have a stench
of tar and the homeless in winter
the marketplace is a dirty place
there are people there who will cheat you
lovers will leave you, babies will cry
but the forest knows where you are
the stars still cast their chill down upon you
you have a place in the grand design
no matter how insignificant in chance
variables of destiny, your signature is a spark
a shadowy breath of the meaning you give it
you are entitled to powerful strangers, familiar rituals
spiritual awakenings, that’s your birthright
Look up.
sometimes just breathe and look around
stop thinking always about yourself.

CELEBRATION OF THE ETERNAL ROSE, 永恆玫瑰的慶典


93

If I confess your body is
The only civilization besides Roses
I long to experience, do not say

Do not say that I only adore blooming things
A Rose at any stage of life is gracious
Moist petalled or dropping wearily

The rain on her lips is like butter-music
If men, were created before women
It is only to appreciate their fullest creation

Like the beauty of the rose whose temptation
Is somehow feminine, a scent spinning
Into oblivion, as flesh seeking to born out living flesh

In blessed and blushing confessions
Or the redness of the weight of the body
The Rose that has told in one simplicity

That never life relinquishes a bloom
But to bestow an ancient confidence:
A man gives a woman a Rose

This symbolic gesture mimics evolution
Women are not roses, they are not
Oceans or stars, I would like to tell her

But I think she already knows.
As a misty dream, our path emerges
Like days of wine and roses, celebration.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/where-the-wild-roses-grow-131859161

Songs of the Hybrid


86

My nose is white, and not too big
Your fragrance is in my veins
The flowers of your womb have permeated me
And I would mate, and dance for children

With songs of love, and the echo of fate
I am not of the East, born of the West
We quicken with desire
For a shared future, the triumph of Queen-belonging

My nose is white, and not too big
Not Asian and indented, but a button nose
Your fragrance is in my blood
Your hips live in the back of my mind

You churn a lifetime of happiness
Like the weight of all yesterdays colluding
With a new creation, challenge and joy
What girls care for, the creation

Of their family, their right, their worth
My nose is white, and bigger than yours
Your fragrance is stuck to my bones
The scene of your hair is laden with black

Like fibers of my genetic code enmeshed
In a hypothetical hybrid, the earthy last resort of life.

True Nature of Spring


69

I have sung the songs of first birds
Of morning’s wish of the flying away
And clapped my hands for the sun
In the loving gold grace of your eyes
The fault must be mine to
Not know the silence

That comes before the dawn
The minor birds of dream
Have fled my grasp, slippery doves
The humming bird seen once in a lifetime
I have sung the songs of peacocks
To the uncertain harvests of Mandarin

The orchard white, the orchids of Taiwan
All the spring stored of so many years
Of youth’s last wish for love
Those joys usually reserved for God
All this celebration that is the springing of the year
To jump in prayers more subtle than pleasure.

Photography Credits: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/A-Time-for-Magic-II-377276625

You on Your Native Soil


36

I bring you flowers/
Invisible spiritual flowers
They hold on to colors of Bliss
Like nothing else, perhaps jewels
They stack, with the investment of years

You had your father’s eyes/
You’ve got my flowers, forever
No matter what happens, between us
You’ll carry the strongest legacy

The most beautiful smiles/
In your children, so be it
I’ll bring you flowers, for the rest
Of our private Eternity
They were moments we
Had nothing truly, but each other

Spring is starting again, I can feel/
It in your womb, the way you itch
For nests, admiring tulips
Your grandfathers passed recently
They did all they could to demonstrate
To posterity, their families, their acts
Were like demonstrations,

To the little lovely young girl names/
That we sometimes talk about
Before bed, I’ll bring you baby-names
In your dreams, wet with the water
Of budding gardens, grand tomorrows.

A Last World of Spring


13

It’s too late to cancel them now
Isn’t it? The birds of spring, sing
Like a mindful entry into the passage
Into summer, May will be coming soon

Reflected in the water of the buds
Fields of division among the twigs
It’s too late to wait up for it now

Isn’t it? The broad gestures of metamorphosis
There are no taboos in Spring
It walks into us from the inside

Sobering with sensuality, green effort
Hazards of the course of threshing floors
Of desire and clarity of impulse

It’s too late to cancel it now
Isn’t it? No more fence-sitting for us
Ambushed by the teeth of flowers

Like a perverse playroom before summer light
I can dwell here a while, to taste
The nearest stars in your liquid eyes.