I float
In and out
Of this place
And this world
As the coffee
Carries me
Over and beyond
The jet-lag
And language
Barriers.
The sense
Of reality
Fighting
With dreamy imagination
And the unsure
And uneasy
Ability to tell
Fantasy
Apart from what has
Happened
And what is
Just a vapor
Of unreal dreams.
Timothy Vance Jackson
March 21, 2009
Beautiful Asian girls
Walk by
With porcelain skin
And dark eyes
That match their hair.
The light color of their incredible skin
Is such a sharp contrast
To the darkness
Of their penetrating eyes.
Warm smiles
And demure expressions
Make them lethal
Weapons
Of beauty.
Unlike Japanese women,
Who smile and then bow
Their heads in ritualistic
Submissiveness,
The women here
In Taiwan
Hold eye contact
And probe
Deeper,
With a curiosity
That is both
Naive and hungry.
Were it not for the fact that I already have a Taiwanese girlfriend,
I would be destroyed
By each look
And each smile
I receive.
Timothy Vance Jackson
March 21, 2009
Taichung
Buzzes past
On the street below me
In a pace and language
I do not understand.
From the second
Floor
Of this coffee house,
I sink
Into being
A foreigner
In a foreign country,
But less foreign
Than I once was-
I have been
Told
That I am now
Considered to be
Half Chinese
Because
Of my Taiwanese
Girlfriend.
I am now less
Of a foreigner
Than the other
“Westerners”
Walking the streets
With the same
Mystified expressions as mine.
I have been brought in
And made
Welcome
As a part
Of the bustling
And speeding scenery.
The disjointed
And disconnected sounds
Of Chicago blues
Playing softly
In the background
Add to the otherworldly
Feelings
Of being
And not being
A part of this space.
Whether it is the jetlag
Or the brain warp,
I do not know-
But the loud
Mandarin voices
Mixing with the soulful black voices of anguish
Lend another layer
To the surreal sensations
Of this existence.
Timothy Vance Jackson
March 21, 2009
Listening
To good jazz-
Brubeck, Davis, Blakey, Monk
Among others-
As the early evening
Air
Blows in the window
Of the coffeehouse
In Taichung.
Have been
Sitting here
For hours
Lazily enjoying
The day,
The music,
The coffee
And the time.
The city
Bustles
And jumps
With endless energy,
Yet the pace
Is somehow slower
And calmer-
Like Tai Chi
In the middle
Of a traffic circle.
It’s nearly impossible
To describe
The numerous disconnects
And incongruities that exist
Here-
The jumbled chaos
Laced with beauty,
The litter and pollution
Nestled next to splendor and tranquility,
Or the movement
Of modernity
Slamming into
The halted pace
Of tiny shrines
And massive temples
And factories
Next to rice fields.
There is so little
Of Taiwan
That makes sense
If you try
To make sense of it all-
But a lazy Sunday
Listening to jazz
And sipping coffee
While fighting off
The jet-lag
Helps
To find that balance
Between the weird and the wonderful.
Timothy Vance Jackson
March 15, 2009
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