Opus Posthumous

One of the poems from my short series on Wallace Stevens. Here we have Wallace returning from the dead. In the category Mining the Library of Babel, if you scroll through, any post with this photo of Wallace accompanying the poem, is also from this series. Opus posthumous I A student fist bumped Wallace &…

Storm & Stress

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…

Fishermen

This poem first saw the light of day at FourTiesLitReview this time last year. i was grateful then & remain so. They are open for submissions, so send your best. This is a revised version from the original. Fishermen i find scorch marks, black smears barely noticeable against scoria rock hemming the sea wall, a…

문재인 — Korea’s New President, a Soliloquy

i am over the moon to be, for the first time in my life, living in a country with a liberal leader. After my total disillusionment with Western politics it comes as a surprise that Korea would vote in such a person. Yet, on reflection, it isn’t: sharing is a way of life here, people…

77

Originally posted on Kvenna ráð:
“All around me the city looked ripe with dying.” John Irving, The World According to Garp. I In summer the houses with yellow lighted windows and open doors pour out music. You think you know her but you don’t. It’s natural at this time of year to admire grace and…

Jeju school boy

i hated school. i have very few memories of it. i just wanted to grow up very quickly. i used to wish before i went to sleep that i’d wake up either in the future or just older. School was nothing but bullying & suppressing who i really wanted to be & what i wanted…

Publication at Underfoot

Very pleased to report i have 6 poems to kick start the new journal Underfoot, started by the amiably mannered & amply minded Tim Miller. I unfortunately missed the vol-au-vonts & the champagne reception, slept in, time-zones are a meither, sometimes. Get over & like, comment & submit. i foresee a future of fine poets…

moaning at the moonlight

You may disagree with what is against your sensibilities & beliefs, but sometimes the reasons for a culture’s differences are tied up with a history, still in memory through those who lived it & continue to remember it. & so the habit persists. i have a dog, & though the farming of dog meat (not…

Powerless But Free?

Originally posted on word and silence:
The image is a familiar one: an aging man or woman who becomes more and more bewildered and angered at the usual political corruption, or the pace of technological or social change. To protect themselves they become more and more strident and inflexible, and retreat behind whatever cultural or…

Spring Rain – Yi Subok

Originally posted on Ahn Translation:
Spring Rain Yi Subok (1924-1986) When this rain stops, In the field by the river, my mind Shall deepen to the doleful color of grass. In the clear sky Above the green field of wheat, Only a skylark would chirp so-and-so. When this rain stops, In the delicate field of…

firefly

firefly ㅕ instead of reading Heidegger or Edward Young i listen to Suzanne sung by Simone her piano, subdued as the gloaming, the distant neon steps of stars her minimal rhythm that fills limbs with move & sing along as throatily as possible in imitation of the nightingale Simone caged in her ribs stomp like…