When I leave Seoul I will
     cut my hair
     burn my clothes
     shed my skin and
     emerge
     a shooting star.

Ah moon
You are a memory
My love
     ebb and flow
          flow and bleed
               blood and tears.

Don't cry sweet moon.
Dance with me.
Encircle me.
endless, endless, endless dance.

Little stone child,
I breathe warmth, but you're cold.
I breathe life, but you sleep.
Endless, endless, endless slumber.

You are a memory of my liberation.
But are you really free?

You stalk me,
     taking advantage of my naivete.
I never see it coming,
     the arrow through the heart.
Neither alive nor dead
     I fall.
And quickly you run toward me
     expectant,
     alert,
     hopeful.
You protect me from the wolves,
     but keep me for yourself.

One, two, three.
     There are a thousand things to love.

Four, five, six.
     There are a thousand people to thank.

Seven, eight, nine.
     There are a thousand sunlit oceans.

Ten, eleven, twelve.
     But one disappointment wipes them clean.

One, two, three.
     Life moves in forms I don't recognize.

Four, five, six.
     Smile and pretend it's not true.

Seven, eight, nice.
     The future soars to meet me.

Ten, eleven, twelve.
     Then leaves me stranded here.

The quality of the wood on the cupboard.
Old poets, plums and wheelbarrows.
Is the toilet paper on the roll correctly?
     up? or under?
We never know why. We aren't allowed to ask.
Just watch and tell me what is.
     - no understanding?
     - that's impossible.
And everything will fit neatly -
     of course we must trim the edges.
But everyone expects that
     and we want it tidy.
So the sack full of cheerfulness
     can lay there all day.
It won't bring tomorrow any sooner.

After I fell in love
I did a thousand things:
I wrote a poem
I wrote a song
I wrote a story
I saw a sunset
I saw the stars
I played some music
I played a game
I painted a picture
I took a trip
I took a class
I grew my hair
I lost some weight
I learned a language
I hiked a mountain
I built a house
I planted a garden
I got sick
I got better
I got a job
I got a dog
I got a cat
I cut my hair
I moved away

The cherry tree began to lose it's blossoms last spring.
The entire road was littered with white petals.
It looked like snow.
Today the cherry tree has littered the road again,
With autumn leaves, crisp on the ground.
Same road.
Same tree.
But oh, so different.