Three grains of paradise
remain in an abandoned
vessel, longing to be
summoned home. Golden
brown edges caress
colorless fragments as eyes
await the epilogue.
Three grains of paradise
up in the air;
Father, Mother, Brother
Violent squalls water cotton
carnations. Her tongue shall
not taste Inari’s holy harvest
even though hunger has come
to call.
On an unrelenting winter’s day,
three grains of paradise
covered in clay…
bodies
veiled in burlap
sway in the midnight breeze
when our driver stops to rewrap
a chap
—————-
LVIII is a bit dark.
Yesterday, my husband and I decided to check out Eulsukdo Island in Busan. Between the months of October and March, Eulsukdo is a popular place for migrating waterfowl to stop and rest. For some reason, the bridges closest to the water were inaccessible yesterday, so I wasn’t really able to photograph the birds as I had intended. It was somewhat disappointing for me. I managed to snap a few images from a distance.
And to the north I saw a star
which did not seem so very far
from where those lonely columns rose;
I felt its heat upon my nose,
and heard a willful, warbling call
emerge from heaven’s endless wall.
Through some strange force I can’t explain
that flaming bird threw down a chain
and pulled me up to raven sky,
now here I sit, away up high,
ensconced in Lyra’s brightest light
on this obscure and biting night.
A view from Gatbawi Summit/South Korea
hooded by ashen bristles,
thin, cracked lips
press together
in distant resignation
stained with sour
blood and spoiled
claret, they must
not wander from the
window’s withering
light
for strokes of sunshine
intermittently invade
semi-hollow orbits
as they frantically
seek a footpath within
the dying day
silver agreements
become more precious
with every passing tick
at the cinema, it sounds like
a whip striking taut
leather
flying through the air
regally with pompous
grandiosity
exquisite and clean
the workmanship of a master
in this house, it sounds like
a ferocious closed fist
belting brittle bone
flying through the air
rashly with thoughtless
execution
horrifying and coarse
the workmanship of a savage
wise walls
whisper of lies,
as wily twilight falls,
then…irrevocable truth tries
to rise
A roll of unraveled Fujicolor Nexia film basks in the afternoon sun.
Today is Lunar New Year! Chase away the ghosts of the past; change starts now!
sundry folly 