To think

That in the end

We were

Almost

Reconciled

until the waves stain red the shores

we will not hear 'peace'

we will only hear 'more'

And last,
there was Maria.

Her birth fell outside
the natural timeline of
all the rest of her family's affairs.

She may have called herself
'an accident.'

I could never make that connection.

She was the closest thing
to passion
I have ever known;
aside from childhood nights
beside an indifferent and well-fed fire.

She was terribly shy;

until she

tremulously

handed me (only one) of her keys.

[Alas
I wonder if it was ever
for the lock upon
her august heart.]

But she sang and she danced
and she ever approached me boldly.
She drew me out of myself
and brought me to wonder.

She even whispered with passion,

daring to share with me
her stately dreams.

And it goes without saying
(though I'll write it and lament)
she kissed with such passion.

She was above and beyond
any other girl I ever loved (...few)

Indeed,
I loved her.

I loved her,

almost enough.

I'm a child in the warmth of your laugh

And as aged as the pillars of the earth

I'm at every point I've ever been
     and never been

I'm coming together
     completely undone

You've altered the course of my story

I will never again breathe normally



You're every chance I have to take

I’m no longer
Allowed to dream
As the children did
Before the war
Cursed them with age and care

Firework nights and
Midsummer hammocks
Swaying in a sultry breeze
Have all been spent
On days doled out
To pilgrims who came
Before me

Swift now falls the hammer stroke
Too soon is spent the day;
Dreams burst forth, but wither soon,
That golden were,
But cannot not stay.

I'm eager to









Lay her down

And

Eat her up

I remember
sometimes

her voice would quiver

like paper lanterns
dancing in some
foreign nighttime glow

I fancy
sometimes

I knew that sweet tremble

at a tea ceremony table
beneath Chinese skies
many years before

it first caressed my ear

i start out brunch with a double *** and coke
and consider the three bottles of long aged scotch
in the back room on the bookshelf
waiting for my palate to mature

meadowlark song beyond the bedroom window
the grey curtains drawn but sunlight still leaks in
the whole place a weird cool haze
on a soon-too-hot summer morning

i wash socks in a small white tub meant for dishes
the laundromat could save so much time
but some strange weight overcomes me
some unspoken dread lingering

it's a cruel thing to admit
often what i miss most about you
are all the places i never actually kissed

the summer days leave me
dappled by the burning sun
the heat paws at me and sometimes
being this mess i am
i imagine it's simply you

About the age of ten

My eyes ceded innocence

And have thus been

Blind ever since

Honestly,

I broke apart last night.

I broke

Over broken promises,
Failed friendships,
Innocence undone.

I broke
Over this last lost year
With all its fear.

I broke
After losing you,
And learning
Where you now are.

I broke.
I simply broke
Apart.

Already the leaves are brightening
In bursts of orange and red, and
Swiftly separated from slender branch
To dance across the busy streets,
Where they will lay
Like dimly golden harvest grain,
And soon too the rains will change
Until mornings dawn with
Foggy street lamps flickering;



Gems of the celestial storehouse
Nestle about unwavering evergreens,
And in a moment of earthly quiet,
Whisper the soft echoes of hope, tarrying.

balancing on open palms
a choice between
whisky and coffee,
for neither

at this hour

is necessary,
but either
at this hour
seem right

Glorious morning;
The fog has lifted, and now
Fishing boats are out.

In between
Dusky alleyways
Hang strings of the
Monday morning wash.

Here wealth and without
Are thus reconciled
By this common chore,

Strung up at either side
Of the bone-broth shop
And the opulent five-star

Every Sunday afternoon

I curl up in this half empty bed;

I replay the memories

I’ve rewritten in my head

And sometimes whisper

Unheard prayers of shame.

Maybe I’ll eventually reconcile

You’ll never again speak my name.

Gracious,

I've hardbound copies of

Tasting Paris

and

Koreatown

side by side.



No

I don't want some

"delightfully delicate" fusion

of these

opposite ends of the earth.



In equal measure

I am torn in two

and thus

it seems

my name

holds true.



All this world's time

is not enough.

I suppose

I'm supposed

To be scared;

But how ought I,

even were I  to die,

when I have done

as few men have dared?

I may beg

To cradle your tender *******,

But if your heart is withdrawn

And your hand is not mine,

Then this is naught

But lust

And such desire is strong

But lastly tastes of dust.

I am not

looking to

kiss a million girls once.



But to

kiss one girl

A million times.

This bed is far too big.

There is no beauty being adored,

No lips being kissed,

No limbs being caressed,

No festive mingling.

I am left with naught but

Lukewarm bittersweet memory.

How long now has it been

Since we met up, just to end?


How many months passed

Since last I brought you flowers?


But second chances now belong

To the moments long since gone.


Memories raised up on false hope

Remain bittersweet, and hold no power.

To be

perfectly honest:

I'll never

consider

you

a regret.

It was a striking dance between us
that night you
pulled the secrets from my sinews,

you sought all my darkest mysteries
and nearly pierced my soul

oh that we then let go.

there are no words left to me
to admit
how I long to see your eyes again,
and plunge back in
to that stunning storm

what can I say?

though now you are
beyond my hope,
my true heart has
never let you go.

I want to be spring rain,

Dancing gently on you.

I want to be winter snow,

Melting at your touch.

We ask

'am i?'

He says

'I Am'

Far removed from family,

I flounder:

I fear

I'm failure.

Seattle scent this Denver night
Hazy are the city lights
Away in flight sets her plane
But I below am kissed by rain

Below by rain, kissed am I
As her plane takes to the sky
Lights now dimmed by city haze
We yet count our numbered days

I can’t stop thinking of you
Since that first night
I pressed my lips against yours

You trembled
In such a manner
I felt I was trespassing
Along the edge of innocence

But I trembled too
For I know I was trespassing
Along the edge of integrity

This summer seemed to take an age

To finally fully blossom;

And there, within, the smallest things

Have burst forth truly awesome.

You are as the fog to me

From a distance I can see

But as I near

You disappear

Till then I look far behind

To see that you have passed me by

I will not

Strip you apart

As the childhood folly

Of a ‘she loves me,

Loves me not,’

Daisy.

See the stories in the snow
Footprints, and the ways they go
Side by side
And all alone
Setting out and going home

it seems the focal word is simply 'survive'
as if any of us get out alive
and all these suits think they determine my brothers
by little more than all our skin colours
well at the end of the day
we wash it all away
and after all our years
we have to leave this place here
it's not just about the desire to survive
what good is that if we cannot thrive?
beyond the ***** and *** and ****
we all have within a fierce unmet need
till the day he calls and bids our blind eyes to see

don't give up here
don't give up now
don't be a coward
don't be so proud

stop fearing love
as if it were some mere emotion
fools lean on such notions
like propping foundations
against ocean waves

let's not take all these petty things
to the edge of our graves

some of us get a hundred years
of swiftly burning days
some of us get more or less
before we must continue on our way
and it's not nearly
enough time here
so let's not take all these petty things
to the edge of our graves

I wait beneath a marbled sky
where darkened clouds linger high
Ready to relinquish rain
to this dull and dusty plain
One more day here will I chance
but I will dream in dreams of France

I gave her a circlet
of sea foam pearls
from Hanok Village

perhaps some might think it
an expression of how
I felt engulfed in her loveliness

perhaps
it was merely
a gift

A meager means to share my heart

And
I suppose

she kept both

Wine no longer makes heart glad

Bread does not satisfy

Here alone in darkened room

I sit and wonder why

Dozens of scars

Laid upon her arm;

Her smile

Sudden as dawn;

A fractured heart

Recovering;

A song that

Ever goes on.

I was born into
This disjointed world,
Already heartbroken;
And given only
Sixty years or so
To reckon therein.

Spring takes an age to bloom

Summer fades in an afternoon

Autumn lingers in brown and gold

Winter steals in and never grows old

I’ve seen Seoul at night,

From miles high,

Gleaming like a hoard of gold.

But I’ll stick with the countryside,

When I return, when I’m old.

Rains are rare
Upon these plains
Near Tornado Alley
Snow more oft
And winds blow
In this little valley

Here in these words

Perhaps I have shown:

I am but a soul

Longing to be known,

Yet this is no revelation

And I still find myself

Alone.

I could spend
Four hundred
Thousand
Kisses
On you,

And never touch
The same place twice.