Falun Gong (still rheum in her eyes) …As she is leaving The Comfort Inn she stops to watch a snippet from a KBS documentary : “They would drag us away for thorough medical examinations. Test our blood | take urine & stool samples| check our reflexes with a soft wooden mallet —our eye sight too. [...]
Moseulpo dreams (7:38 p.m.) …From the bus she sees farmers’ bonfires scratch the imminent dark interior of the island & the fat plumes cuffed by the sky | set in contrast to the toxic halo of a town’s crooning neon. The cemented path she walks runs off into dust | the street lights colliding with [...]
Memories of the dead while hiking (4:04 p.m.) …As her friend was dying | grasping desperately to a silly belief | she put a status on her Kakao Talk asking everyone she knew to “picture armies of cancer killing antibiotics in rank & file at the crenellation of her cancer’s fortress —each antibiotic soldier | [...]
The above pic is not from Yeongsil Trail, but Donnaeko Trail, which is connected. The pic captures a hazy view of Seogwipo, the 2nd, other, southern city of Jeju. Donnaeko is, for roughly 6km a steep path, sheltered by dark umbrage most of the way—you suddenly come out of the trial & are met with [...]
Criticisms of the West (11:44 a.m.) …Does all this talk get recorded anywhere —a data-bank of the cosmos? My Western friends are always talking about the Universe’s Consciousness—Thai dye t-shirts & harem pants | mandalas patterning them —I stick out like a sore thumb in my grey pant suit. They travel through Asia for a [...]
The next in my series Yoon Yong. In the previous poem, I used the word, malbok. Malbok is a word for the final, intensely hot days of August & the passing of Summer into Autumn. After (as they are now rattling my door) dramatic winds swipe in & push out all the heat & headache [...]
My online presence, has reduced significantly, I feel. I'd just like to offer an apology for not being more involved in other peoples' writing; something I really enjoy engaging with. I am, as well as working 7 days a week sheltering tourists & feeding them, working on a collection of short stories, which is constellating [...]
Pleased to have Underfoot on Ion’s long list of publications.
If you’d like us to publish your poems, you know the drill. We’d be happy to read you in all your best threads.
In this still bay, limestone blue,
the fall of mountain steep with scree.
Clumps of hard grass grip the slope, shorn
like valleys I have seen in eastern Turkey.
Don’t tell the Greeks, don’t tell the Turks;
some of them at least. The far mountains,
covered in a haze of sun and clouds,
look like the Anatolia I have seen.
In this still bay, mountains rise,
while men sit around, drink coffee, complain;
until one day the earth trembles,
rips the land apart, and the mountains
sink into the sea.
Birds roost in caves, menace to keep their space,
until they too move on, or are banished.
We talk about this place, but we talk too much.
This place is about mountains, born from the sea,
from Venetians, Ottomans, Turks, Greeks;
everything that belongs to yesterday.
Everything that belongs to today.
One day a volcano exploded under the…
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The next poem in my Yoon Yong series. “Be like your mother” (8:44 a.m.) …Orange is warm & marriage is blue —my mother is transparent | I always wanted (want…?) her transparency | to follow her example —what stopped me | or rather | who? My young self mostly still straggling in the remotest substrata of [...]
Hunger (8:39 a.m.) …I remember clearly… lepers from Bible sermons made me tickle stomached —I never read the passages alone even when mother underlined them to be read before I slept | I could summarize them enough to get away without reading them again : nature never bites off more than it can chew. “The [...]