In the time of the butterflies,
before lush grapes turned sour,
aged trees shook in unison,
fearful of what might pass.
Elders with low, ferocious
voices murmured, then shouted
until they howled under a
caliginous canopy, woven from
smoke and anise seed, rising in
anger only to fall upon a traitorous
ground. Needle noses prepare to
pierce trembling flesh that may
still be perspiring in dimples of
Bare is this weeping land, divested
of its plentitude, beneath our
incompetent hands–hoping and
praying that those pale peach, hazelnut
wraiths will find their way home.
A Daegu woman prepares a package of what I believe are small shrimp (I wasn’t close enough to know for sure) for a customer/South Korea
do be silent,
for, there, prowling above
this den, is the spy who was sent
A young boy chases pigeons on the grounds of the Gwangju Museum of Art/South Korea
Fall silent and away
a sweeping nightstick on
your slanting back.
Fall silent, voice upon voice, stamped
out near withering cigarettes, in exchange
for second-hand teardrops, cracked yet
functional, and stale baguettes.
In this way, the martyrs of our age
pave peaked avenues, gaunt as sunlight,
with unmoving, garnet throats.
A woman sells dried herbs at an outdoor market near Daegu’s Munyang Station (문양역)/South Korea
Here, lies our love.
Long may love reign!
Clear, lies our love,
within love’s stark stain.
There, lies our love.
Don’t ask love why.
Near, lies our love,
in love’s jaunty way.
Dear, lies our love.
Love, can you stay?
Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.
~Ursula K. LeGuin
I was challenged to write a “Love in Ten Lines” poem. Each line had to be four words long with the word love appearing in each line. Also, one had to include a favorite quote about love at the end.
This is what I came up with.
On the first truly warm weekend of 2015, some Daegu men take time to play a friendly game of volleyball/South Korea
On a warm Saturday afternoon, a street musician entertains a crowd near Daegu’s Munyang Station(문양역)/South Korea
Imagine yourself a pear tree,
with passionate palms upturned
to receive bashful young fruits
as they plummet from your own aching
A light drizzle of sweetness
turns into an unforgivable lashing
and your overburdened wrists
snap under the weight of the
Broken bones beneath sugared skin.
Faith, scattered around the orchard,
never to be pieced back together.
And then, a pompous sky, naked
in its knowledge, laughs before it
cries. Moistened mud slides
over bulging thighs, making a mark,
biding its time, giving everything
to all that we are.