The China Experience
Eight poems about going to China
Eating In Yiwu China
I look for a restaurant with english
and if I can’t find one I look for at least menu pictures on the wall
until I find one with price numbers printed in the corners
and then walk in and point on the wall and give the money
and see what comes out.
Hemisphere Strangers
on the top of leifeng pagoda up seven flights of stairs
an old chinese man looking half mummified already
huffs his way slowly to the top bracing his cane on each step
and arrives finally at the highest floor and laughs at himself
and taps his cane on the ground a couple satisfied times
and sees me a young american sharing the view
and he smiles at me and says something and beams
and I smile back and point and smile again
and he wanders off to the other side another cardinal direction view
and I wonder which is more beautiful
the horizon of topographical serenity
or that both of us hemisphere strangers
might today share it.
Polluted Poetry
the haze in china is such that the ancient mythical view
of the autumnal moon on the calm still lake top
poetically described as one of ten timeless scenes in west lake
is quite the satirical joke.
Longjing Tea Fields
the tea fields wrapped around the wooded hillsides
in every direction from the village the taxi dropped us off in
my hostel friends from holland and portugal
and we started walking further down the road
looking for the least unsympathetic trail
winding across a brook and into the rows of longjing bushes
and half a mile later dark clouds descended
from the neighbor mountains and the watering began
and too far from the village to run we chose the hills
and their trees for cover and the trail turned muddy
the rocks got slick and the moss thick and the soil pungent
and our clothes were soon soaked brushing against the tea leaves
and I helped miss dutch up a set of tall stone steps
and mr. portuguese scouted ahead
to try and find the best umbrella branches
and the rain was kind enough to wait to thicken
until after we were concealed
and we examined the damage to our passports in our pockets
and I found a plastic bag amidst the tea farmer rubbish
and wrapped up our border papers tight
and we sat down on upturned littered plastic soup bowls
and mr. portugal got out his chinese smokes
and for the three of us spontaneous travelers alone
the soggy hill exhaled its verdant ancient secrets.
American Sugar
two older chinese tourists in the station
on a trip together to see a bit more of their country
before they’re too frail to leave their village again
sit in the train station aghast
at the humongous american business man
bigger than them put together
eating a pack of cakes meant for a family’s week
the first one in only one bite
two and he licks his fingers
and pokes around at the buildup of dough
stuck in his molars
three
four and licks his fingers again
and washes down his icing deliveries with a cherry coke
and he closes the cap and eats number five
and then he chokes a bit and hacks a piece of fruit filling
out on his fist which he then licks off
and starts number six and seven right after
more cherry coke eight and another finger licking
nine and finally ten and the box is empty
and down goes the rest of the soda
and the old woman looks away to a child playing nearby
but the old man cannot look away his face displaying clues to his disgust
as the american’s fingers dive deep into his throat again
so he can lick off the sweet residue to his knuckles
one digit at a time until satisfied every milligram of sugar
has been dissolved onto his tongue
and the american gets up and throws away his trash
and the old man turns to the giggly child as well
until the american comes back with another bottle of soda for the ride.
the old man thought about his youth
and spending years always a little hungry on the family farm
during his childhood years of collectivized farming
and how the american might have just consumed more sugar
in ten minutes than his parents had in their entire lives.
Miracle In Hangzhou
a cramp is coming on uh oh.
did the pointing method of tapping entree pictures
on the restaurant wall guessing at ingredients
or maybe some soup filled with tap water
finally catch up to my large intestine?
oh boy it’s coming and I need a bathroom fast
where where where?
I find one just at my bowels’ zenith squeeze
but it’s a hole and crouch bathroom so not ideal
and no toilet paper in the stall
this won’t do I’m going to need toilet paper
I turn to try another stall and the cramp gets somehow worse
there’s no time I no longer have a choice
and I go back in and close the door
fumble of course desperately with the lock
and as I pull down my pants and crouch
on the way down it’s fire in the hole
and I flush real quick
it’s close to natural disaster proportions
and all of a sudden every gland on my body is expelling sweat
and bowel round two hits immediately after
reminding me I am not in control
and the sweat pours down my face as my legs start to cramp
and I think it’s over and am relieved at last
and wipe my sweaty face on my sleeve
relieved I got my pants down in time
and I pull them up slowly not too close to skin
I have never missed any american custom more
than public toilet paper
and I waddle to the sink and wash my hands
and waddle outside the bathroom
and outside on the wall I see a miracle
a paper towel dispenser for a few coins
and the transaction gets me ten sheets
and I waddle back to my hole and clean up
what a relief
and I reflect on how much worse the ordeal could have been
and the job requires all ten tissues rationed strategically
and instead of swamp dripping down my cheeks
and smearing on my clothes
I’m only chafing as I walk the rest of the night.
Travel Young
I stay at hostels to meet the most random people
and tonight did not disappoint
a chilean guy and a nepalese girl
a singaporean guy and a swiss guy
and we drank beers and became the best of temporary friends
and shared stories of homes all across the world
and we never even exchanged names.
and in the next city
a serbian bartender makes me cocktails she’s developing
and an australian with a frenchman friend say they want one too
and a canadian student on her semester abroad tries mine
and my roommates from england and malaysia arrive
and buy the next round.
America Distilled
after three weeks abroad in the east
I’m trying to get things back together
while a chinese cold I got from an airplane neighbor’s constant coughing
declares a siege and my immuno generator needs a cranking
so my cupboard is my guru and in the dim light
a shine like orleans destiny glints off the bottle glass
of a kentucky bourbon whiskey reserve
exactly what this moment calls for
some american can-do spirit to cleanse my insides
and the bottle has gotten low
but evenings such as tonight are why
I save the last binge for when I’ll really need it
on a night I’ll know when I see it
and the occasion has at last called
for finishing the final ounces.
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