pull down the sky
tear it down with an angry fist
wrap its magnificence around your
shoulders and scream until you
lose your voice
make it real
smear the act with the fulcrum of
standing on your tiptoes at the
edge of the earth
fall upon the net of lights
A traditional Korean percussion ensemble celebrates Lunar New Year by playing music near the
Suho tree, which protects their village.
Gyungsangbukdo Chilgok Youngori/경상북도 칠곡 용로리
hot streaming tears of Job ground as fine as
stardust cloud a discolored cup, constructing
a dusky cosmos fashioned from the anguish
before the sun, thy broken body
shall be healed
…time to pay the gas bill…
August 18th, 2013 – a Sunday
ten days before my 32nd birthday
she was 16 years old, with a simple, stainless
smile…much like her pumpkin head…
those red sneakers were falling apart,
but she trudged along in them anyways
as her sloe-eyes peeked out from under
uneven and dismal bangs
that helmet haircut couldn’t protect her
from pernicious prowlers let alone
from playground put-downs
This pencil and its brethren have already had quite a bit of exercise in 2015. The bottom drawer in my pencil sharpener was in dire need of a cleaning!
The Gold Star Circus was expected to roll into Fayetteville sometime after ten o’clock. Gladys had plans to run away with the circus, provided that she could convince the owner to let her join the troupe. To Gladys’ surprise, her mother had balked at the idea.
“No daughter of mine is going to gallivant around the country with a band of misfits. You might as well dig my grave now.”
Gladys took a glance at herself in the hall mirror before sneaking out of the house. She combed three fingers through her bonny beard and grinned. She would be happy.
Traditional Giwa tiles at Heinsa Temple/South Korea
In a frigid room
In a place I could not change
Out of carelessness
I snapped its handsome head off
to feel a passion for life.
to the devout
voices, for they glisten
in the distance as they strike out
If there are whispers of the divine,
then surely they manifest themselves
in the curve of your spine, or perhaps,
through the curiosity of your
Even in the frost the tips of
her silver coat illuminate and
within the morning hush, her
steady purr sets the rhythm for
My breath slows as we stretch
towards the sun in the tabernacle
of our home.
These were the thoughts that prompted me
to get out of bed this morning. The image is
of my cat, Sorcha. It was taken in 2010, when
I lived in San Francisco. She is still with us.