An oldish poem i have neglected for sometime, until i recently injected some new words & remodeled it.
Storm & Stress
the light switch of the storm
shaped like the roots of the 팽 tree, its fibrous anchors
split the torrential downpour in a sparagmotic seizure
& tugged the claggy cloud, the sky itself with meteoric thrust
toward the ground.
afterwards, as the storm reeled to sea
i found a conduit persimmon torn from its heels
moaning agony, dying— the fruits of its labour mushed in sodden soil.
the sun appeared
& from its twin
hard hats, over-worn faces, a cement mixer
& bulldozer guffawing
팽= peng, the Jeju word for the Chinese Nettle Tree.