My world is not shiny, in fashion
or trendy
it belong to the slowness
of revision in a tiny room
alone with my hand over
a piece of paper
the cup of tea close to me is
a pool of fragrant words ready for alchemy
the blanket a sweet resting
spot where I  “San Francisco- burrito” myself  until I am completely  wrapped in it.

I, too am a happy temporary
stem with hands and legs
close to the ground with petals reaching
towards the sun

They come to the cemetery bring their chairs, the rose crowns and the whimsical  smiles  
five years have quickly  passed indeed gutting the closeness of skin
and deep stitching  the ones their cloth to the cloth she was buried within
death does not separate it brings  together
they are woven now with the same thread

Once and for all it all turned magic
and the girl could see she could not age
and she could not die

that all her loved ones whereabouts
were deep in her heart
because her and them were
one another
It all turned to magic
and the girl danced a calm and grateful dance
as the great spell that plagued humanity dissipated and from her countenance sorrow was lifted  

magical, the world has always been magical

a pair of padded pants to save yourself from winter
you look at the next title more padding for the cold that makes you shiver inside

We sunk into the melting ice dissolving over the Han River
changing icy thoughts to free flowing water

everything was water
clear, cleansing and clearing

you are across the street
and so am i. we are walking
in the same direction. the sky is dimming preparing its arms for the dark lull in
which only stars sing.

the people sauntering
around us are their own celestial bodies detached from the outside world
in their mind, inside their screens– far, far away.

we pass them on the street towards
the same place light years from one another wondering if I tilted my phone and aimed it’s reflection into their eyes if they’d receive, if the speed of light can carry my message.