poems | essays | photographs
An object oriented poem with a little savoury biology. We eat, mashing the meat of the matter with calcium evolved enough to cope with it. Flesh of its flesh become flesh of our flesh. Nothing, not even death can be inert. The meat of it never thought, despite the organisms nattering via calendar & root, [...]
It has taken me longer to get this done than I promised. I started writing it just before I was due to move to Exeter. I am beginning to settle in here. But Jeju & Korea are never far from my thoughts. Genesis Yoon Yong as both hero & poem germinated together. I had read [...]
This is the final Yoon Yong poem. I am in the process of writing a proper analysis/epilogue about the poem, as requested by a couple of loyal readers. I hope to have it done by next week. Thank you for reading these poems. If anyone who would like these poems sent to them as a [...]
It is worth remarking that "mense" is a shortening of menstruation, which I have heard Korean women, my ex-wife especially, say; however, I cannot further elucidate the reason, but can only speculate, if this is because menstruation is a difficult word, or if the shortening has become shorthand Konglish, thus the source becoming lost the [...]
Yoon Yong dreams. Napping on a sea wall after midnight …She steals a trampoline from a trim backyard —carries it on her back | over the spinal cord of the Taebaek mountain range to the edge of the world (all signposted) —looks out on a sea of shadows teasing her vulnerabilities into [...]
Yoon Yong is drunk again. Drinking to forget again (nearly home time) …3 bottles of Soju later & staggering thoughtfully through tight gullies | her stomach packed full of pig | mouth reeking of garlic noxious enough to stun a jindo—the stars like pheasant tracks —if you count all the stars is [...]
A poem from Yoon Yong. I had a debate in the pub the other week about onanism. I have a theory that the violence of men, may have its root in onanism: in one onanistic act, a man lays waste on a rag, to an entire population. Dylan Thomas was concerned with this. So is [...]
As promised, more from Yoon Yong. Library by the Sea— Geumneung Village …An outdoor library with little wooden cubes painted in shades of the sea & glass doors that hold 2 or 3 books —sand | pomegranate red & grass | the glass doors with smooth wooden knobs & little bronze hasps [...]
There will be a Yoon Yong poem today & tomorrow. I promise. Appearances …My cheekbones are fine | my chin if a little chiseled. I don’t agree with where my hair parts the same as my father’s | not symmetrical like my mother. Glad I got mother’s long legs but my father’s [...]
Yoon Yong. Nostalgia …The morning news buzzing in the background... —Her father stopped reading the newspaper when his sight grew dim. She liked to see him read: she felt in good hands | that her father could guide her. She tried to replicate the paper’s cackle with other materials—my own onomatopoeia [...]
“ There, I am desperately free and naive; but knowing this oh dear happiness, dear misery; there is no distinctive sign except that one tearing one’s heart, and a smile destined to nobody(...)" E.Stachura
all about travelling in korea
come lay down ink...
Vincent Hanley
