In this moment of perfect pain,
tears wash away within the rain.
And as frail feet meander home
wet worlds descend from heaven’s dome,
soaking skin in salty splashes,
driving me on with lusty lashes.
As night approaches, fear sets in
then grim visions begin to spin.
Do demons linger by the fire?
plotting to place me on their pyre?
My feet tarry at this divide;
pupils careen from side to side.
A critical choice must be made
no one will come to offer aid!
This way?  That way?  How do I pick?
Silent clocks tick loudly, quick! quick!

I shall follow this unknown lane,
in hopes that I might live again.

난항/Rough Passage

오래된  그 배는 끊임없는 격랑에 항해한다
부담을 실은 배에 따라 두근거리는 내 가슴은 요동친다
몸은 약하고  지치는데  계속적으로 난 고요한 바다를 기원한다
힘들고 오랜 항해 후 육지에 올랐다
영원히 무거운 눈꺼풀을 감는다

This old boat sails through an endless rough sea.
My pounding heart rolls with the burdened ship.
This body is weak and ragged; I pray incessantly for calm waters.
After a long and difficult voyage, land is reached.
Heavy eyelids close forever.


It has been one week since I updated the blog.  I have been busy with work and Korean studies.   Hopefully this lag in updates will not become a trend! 🙂

In the Absence of Monsters

In the absence of monsters,
Aquila’s angels beam down
upon soft cheeks resting atop
mother’s shoulder.

A flying eagle soars through
slender stems carrying golden
garments of majesty.

In the absence of monsters,
we cannot possibly conceive
of the
pear blossoms reclining at
the end of the rainbow.

It is the autumn of needles.

주홍날개꽃매미/Lycorma delicatula


I think that these cicadas are beautiful but they are destructive to plants.  Farm and orchard owners in Korea detest them for the damage that they inflict on crops. They are also appearing in cities in increasing numbers and city dwellers don’t like them either.
The picture was taken in our apartment when one suddenly appeared in the living room.

Our Future

Lonely hearts bloom in old country homes
where rice wine once flowed through
uneventful existences; now, sophisticated
city wombs decline rural lips while sharp
mouths lament of lost traditions
beneath a blushing strawberry moon.

New paths need new feet.

Life is hard on dusty roads of discontent;
bright lights beckon young ladies with
promises of luxury and liberty as brothers
stay behind to reap a hollow harvest in
an era of transplantation and transmutation.
Would-be wives stretch for the stars above
forsaken farmers who dig their heels in,
waiting for clock hands to turn back.

New paths need new feet.

From foreign ports, fair faces appear to
work in familial gardens, seeking a better
life within sunrise’s coveted serenity.
Shall these hopeful flowers take root in
the domestic fold?  –  Or, will their
petals wither with the lavender ladies?

New paths need new feet.