Hiatus

    i have decided after some deliberation this week, to take a hiatus from blogging. Perhaps a month or so, until the summer is over— i think it may be searing my brain, short circuiting some of the neuronal connections, my dendrites are firing blanks.     i furthermore, received a high number of rushed rejections from journals…

The Pansori Singer

If you don’t know what the voice of a Pansori singer sounds like, i recommend you search it on Youtube. It has an overwhelming effect on me whenever i hear it. i become frozen, my skin horripilates & i just want to weep. The force with which they sing is far more intense & emotional…

Busan: City by the Sea

This is just to have the whole poem in one place for any future visitors who pass by & rather than ruffle through separate posts, you get the idea. i do recommend a second read though, never know what you might have missed 1st time round. Cheers for reading by the way. Busan: City by…

Busan: City by the Sea— Part 3

Busan: City by the Sea— Part 3 Economy of Busan 1 Everyone’s talking about the low volume of tourists: the Chinese are boycotting Korea, because of THAAD. Hotel’s, restaurants & cafes, though by no means desolate are far from packed to the brim. Discounts across the board. Economies are like populations of species, remove one…

Busan: City by the Sea— part 2

Second part. A tour of a department store & all the frills & thrills, the worst case scenarios & the separations that continues to ensue because… Busan: City by the Sea— part 2 Shinsaegae (The New World) Department Store i There is enough here for everyone to have something unique, something all their own, which…

Busan: City by the Sea— Part 1

Photographs were not the only product of my Busan trip, naturally, a poem emerged, a long poem. Busan: City by the Sea— part 1 Just Another Tourist A farmer’s profiled face, the ideal line, tilted back 40 degrees                                      watching the sky bedded in geraniums, cosmos & violets; the face made…

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…

Let’s call it a sacrifice

A new poem. Photograph by me. Let’s call it a sacrifice It must have worked, whatever killed it : the drought has lost its footing; except now, the once named, being dead, is just that —or a sacrifice, sufficient enough to sate the appetite of a god. i don’t believe in such fads, but many…

Man Dressed like a Forest

Man Dressed like a Forest Finally, rain is expected Wednesday. It’s been weeks since we had a drop. The grass is dry & brittle like a nicotine stained moustache; it scrunches with each step — the sound tells me i live. There is one here dressed like a forest. His thirst must be slaked. Hear…

World Food Market

There is a new world food mart opened on Hallim high street, to accomdate to the rising numbers of South East Asians, who work as deck hands, or in the harbour. The scent is lovely, & stays in your fingertips & clothes for hours. i go there just to smell the place & be made…

3 poems published at the High Window

Very pleased to have 3 poems published at the High Window alongside so many talented poets. Thanks to the editors David Cooke & Anthony Costello for taking them. The Resident Artist, Angela Smyth also did art work for my poem Cover Story. The poem Cover Story, just to give you a bit of background, is also…

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…