Busan 3

i promise this is the last batch, don’t want anyone climbing the walls or thinking i’m a broing Uncle Herb type with his projector slides from trip circa ’93. i’ve had fun manipulating the truth though.

Busan 2

A 2nd batch from Busan, focusing mainly on the dense old fish market, Jagalchi. So much fish & so many bizarre creatures i never saw before.

Busan

i was treated to a short respite from work with a trip to Korea’s 2nd largest city, Busan (부산). Busan was spared the artillery impact of the Korean war & contains historical areas that Korea on the whole, doesn’t have. There is a balance between the hyper-new, chic, beach side with glass skyscrapers scratching cloud;…

Thinking out loud in no particular order

Roy Fisher in his Jacket2 interview, explained that his poetry could sometimes be explained as thinking out loud. i’ve been quite taken by this & for the past 3 days i have written something like 25 pages or round there about of this thinking out loud poetry & i am quite pleased with the results &…

Wallace’s Prophecy of Plagiarism

Another new addition to The Wallace Variations.  Wallace’s Prophecy of Plagiarism He climbed into the dome of a zelkova tree & wouldn’t come down for love nor money, said he was a blackbird with a catchphrase on the tip of his tongue stained red with cherry sherbet— i thought, i may need to call the…

Wally Draws Real Gulls in an Empty Sky

Another new poem for The Wallace Variations. Wally Draws Real Gulls in an Empty Sky i walk with Wally & the dogs down to the shore. On the way he was all pipperoo, pippera, pipperum. i asked the meaning of this, each word (a neologism?) inflected, before dropping into plosive starts— he shrugged, pulled a…

Wallace Counts Leaves

Up to now all poems from The Wallace Variations, were written years ago, but i have been writing new ones, here is a new one.   Wallace Counts Leaves i. There are not enough leaves on this tree— I counted, it’s short. It is mid-summer, a few days after solstice. Tree blown into ragged perms,…

Coffee with Wallace

Sit with Wallace Stevens in my garden, drinking coffee & cloud spotting, in this poem from The Wallace Variations. Coffee with Wallace Look at this coffee pot, it is metallic, figure of a dancer; warm when acted upon, but cold. Light distracts its mirrored face, a design half-inched from a hall of mirrors, to show…

Lil’ Spud

Children can be so cruel. Lil’ Spud queuing to pay for my basket of tofu, sesame oil, red chili & pumpkin seeds at the local mart— a boy, lil’ spud of a child pointed at me, singled me out &, with the menace of Mephistopheles laughed archly—no question, he directed the tip of that podgy…

FALling (PArt z)

The last sonnet Falling. Link to Part A Falling 2 Knowing around 0%, about the influence of deserts on man— aside from sun burn & visions— i might discover, people who’ve known only deserts, actual or otherwise; that falling is counter intuitive to existence; unsalvageable dependence on fideism, buoyed by prayers for fields of cereals…

Falling (part A)

We’ve all done it & you might say, we never stopped nor did we begin, but we’ll probably end someday, maybe. i do not really understand these equations, but i wanted precision & recently read in Foucault that equations had a brevity akin to poetry (at least i think it was Foucault). i also kind…

Re-humanization

i read recently, a short piece of prose by the Palestinian poet Ghassan Zactan, about his mother’s memories of a Jewish girl she liked, which led him to talk about his friend & fellow Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish. Zactan, explains that just as his mother after years of occupation could still allow the memory to…