Poetry on Coming to Beijing

One of my greatest loves in this world is writing, specifically poetry, as it has always acted as a window from which to view the depths of the soul of the writer and understand them as they understand themselves. Poetry is a way for me to express thoughts and feelings that I would have otherwise been unable to elucidate and it gives me the chance to speak of the world in terms that make sense to me. I believe poetry is the highest possible art form I can undertake, I believe that life and the world around us are filled with poetry in all forms, I believe that poetry walks clad in beauty and it is my mission in this world to know beauty and meet her true face. In my short time on this planet the world itself has acted as my muse: presenting me with trials and experience, introducing me to happiness and pain, forcing an understanding of life upon me that has taught me pity, yet also endurance in hope.

What follows are several poems that I wrote immediately after arriving in Beijing:

Upon the Footsteps of Dawn

Or

The Grand Tour Begins

Upon the footsteps of dawn I will walk East as East will go,

Through the Gate of Heaven I will fly to the end of centuries,

Within the great halls of Red Mansions I will head towards the birth of the sun,

Over ten thousand generations of man I will climb to the center of the world,

Here I shall grow my young soul,

And gain wisdom,

And know peace,

And find love.

Sinosized to one size fits all and bursting at the seams,

Into my head they have poured baijiu mercury and jade,

This poor Cowboy is drunken and does not understand the meaning,

If any at all.

All and all and all along I try to avoid the pitfalls of

what Master Tzu said.

The Tao that none may speak of tells me just to fall;

even at the bottom is a lesson to be learned,

but it is not the truth,

truth speaks not but only shows.

But when I am seen,

When I am found and lost is home,

Will home find me lost in a land of strangers,

Or of my kin.

Shall this cowboy grow,

Become 8-legged and run through the halls of Confucian thought,

Even trade the horse for the pen,

The constant gun fire for the Five Constants.

He would and he will,

Gladly he soon shall trade his ancestor’s halls of stone for Mansions of Red,

Figs for persimmons,

Oak and cedar for bamboo,

The Queen’s for The Chairman’s,

One chapter for the next.

Untitled

It’s funny, really, what can happen over a cigarette,

Lung cancer, enlightenment, romance,

Or a move to Beijing.

Maybe next time, I will happen upon myself.

Untitled

The bats of chaoyang fly low, letting me know that happiness is within reach;

The automobile drivers are erratic - telling me death is closer.

In Behai I happened upon a Buddha,

He was silent on the matter.