Waiting for the N-Judah Inbound at the intersection of Carl and Cole Streets/San Francisco
(2010)
Monthly Archives: June 2014
The Proposal
A young couple at Haeundae Beach (Busan) – 해운대에 한 쌍의 연인 (부산)
red summer nights
dainty green shells shine
under a brilliant white star
red summer nights sing
Lavender Triptych
The gorgeous lavender fields of Matanzas Creek Winery in Santa Rosa, California.
Summer Rain
Summer rain
Arrives like a gentle evening kiss.
Wrapping salty arms around you,
She nestles into your bones,
Dances carelessly with the wind
Then waltzes off into the dawn.
…on the sidelines…
You can’t speak high Korean with me,
I can’t speak high English with you,
and clearly I can’t speak German,
neither hoch nor nieder.
And so, with a lump in my throat I sulk,
bitterly sipping on this sweet potato
latte while Your Excellencies engage
in dieses Gespräch.
Sunday’s Dragonfly/일요일의 잠자리
Dragonfly by the Gum Ho River (Daegu) – 금호강에 잠자리 (대구)
Cinquain/X
this dust
is an offense
which manifestly must
be uprooted with an intense
defense
——————————-
My maternal grandmother was a skilled miniaturist who painstakingly created a beautiful collection of small fascinating rooms. This short poem was inspired by her “Victorian Parlour.”
…a final parting…
An indolent orange spirit drifts across
the mountainside as the day draws to a close.
Pulling a leaden cloak over the forested canvas,
she offers no quarter to my flagging frame.
I stretch a cautious limb in front of me,
searching for a secure footing while sap soaked
leaves protest under an inquisitive tread.
A half a dozen steps ahead, your raven
tresses swing to and fro, occasionally
meeting the soft light that sinks in the west.
I stop my ascent for a crack to watch your
slender span navigate the shadows.
You will soon round the binding bend and
then I shall never see you again.
TIME – please be merciful with my memories.
Absolve them of their debts.
I beg of you.
At The Buffet
She flicks that golden braid over her shoulder
onto a rhinestone studded collared jean jacket
as she sings her soul out under hot teal lights.
The greens and pinks of her floral skirt swirl
around dimpled knees while both hands raise
above heads to clap us into submission.
She’s a robot.
She’s a swallow.
She’s a Canens at battle with the night.
She can be anything she wants to be.
She’s got all her love to give.
She WILL survive.
sundry folly 