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,…

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…

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…

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…

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…

looking out the window on 신불사

i wrote this some time ago while staying in the village Daesa-nim built, which is called 신불사 Shinbulsa. It was March & cold in the mountain. i spent much of my time climbing up to a peak where a 3 headed Buddha had been chiseled hundreds of years ago. i really wish i had begun…

Attempts at Arrangement

i had a little less work to do one of the days this week, so rather than kip in a sunny chair i took Boreum out for a plod through my usual haunts & took the camera out. i find my eye drifts toward light & shape rather than the documentation of a going-on. i…