I am
a flower in the dry river
where no one pays attention
that no one takes notice of

I am
full of deceitful hypocrisy and pride
that no one notices
I am such a stone

I am
with a conspiracy of money and power
I am humble to the strong limitless
who drives hunting dogs

And yet
I realize that I am nothing
that I am nothing
that I am not thing.

early April, spring
beyond the hill of curiosity
the road ahead
looking up at the sky
in front of me.

Wife
"Don't wear outdated clothes"
"Wash your hair
in the every morning
"Don't buy
bean paste stew
outside"
When peeing,
don't let it fall
on the toilet floor"

It is Not That
A real it
“Write a poem that strikes my heart.”

The way we live each day
is not a job

Poets who think of writing poetry as a job
have no choice but to live a life unrelated to poetry.

Poetry
look, read, listen, write
stroking
every day.

We
must  can show
the miracle that
should not happen
with the eyes of
hope.

In a way
I think dreams are like a rainbow colors
the closer we get to it
the further away it gets
so it is like something that
we can't catch but
we're trying to catch
the driving force of life
Philosophically
we shouldn't try to realize our dreams
I see a lot of people
who actually achieve their dreams
walk away from them
Life is beautiful
who goes with their dreams
instead of
trying to fulfill them.

Early in the morning
blocking out the sound of cars
carrying the sound of birdsong
on the leaves
snails
mind is busy
sharpen senses
open eyes wide
And walk down the road. without friction...
hurried steps lead to
that place
Irene's full moon water drops
dedication of the environmental beautification worker,
endure of slowness
the air's hair
cleaning the world's trash
moist and soft lotion
a snail's day today
an S-shaped nail  same
the filament inside the red light bulb.

The impact of regional wars
are global all
So, as
there is no peace
that is irrelevant to me
Similarly
there is no war
that is not related to me.

Let a tree be a tree
Let the clouds be clouds
Sea to sea
Dust to dust
Let a traffic light be a traffic light
Earth to Earth
Space to space
Glass window to glass window
black hole to black hole
Keep the distance between you and me
and make us eat rice without a side dish
that binds distance and time
power of being,
law of love,
You will be with me, even today.

It keeps me from knowing of evil ways
evil deeds, or
evil plans, and
makes the mental bridge
connecting body and soul
in constant check

The locomotive of love
allows me to receive love
as if I am receiving it
allows me to give love
as if I am giving it
(even if we meet again
the temperature of our hug is the same)

Makes us love to work
makes us work to love
makes us not greedy
makes us face white paper of heart.

before us
path we don't want to take
faces we don't want to see
things we don't want to do
over there
in the sad events
what is the meaning of life
in them?

The person you love
may be gone,
but love doesn't go away,
of course
love is forgotten
with the passage of time,
but I don't think
it is to be forgotten
that is gone,
I think
it is to survive
that is not forgotten,
I think
love is to pass through death
stronger than love,
to become stronger than death
and to survive
this is my simple thought.

for Frank

Today, I went to a nearby playground park with grandchildren for a change. I was busy playing with the children when, at some point, I noticed an unfamiliar child looking up at me and smiling. The child was wearing shabby clothes, had unkempt hair, and cheeks sunburned from the sun. But that smile was so beautiful—like a gem hidden in the mud, something that children with nice clothes, well-groomed hair, and sun-kissed cheeks could never possess. So, despite my own worn-out smile, I smiled back at the child as a gesture of gratitude. Then the child began to follow us and play together. Especially the sight of the child struggling to lift my second son, Samuel, and trying to place him on a horse saddle or staircase is indescribable in words. Then we saw the child’s back as he returned to his parents. Soon after, someone called out “Iren,” so I think the child’s name was Iren. Iren came over with a cookie in her hand, placed it in Samuel’s hand, and then returned to parents. I didn’t look at the parents. I thought they might be crying somewhere in the playground. So I called Iren over and gave her two oranges and yogurt, gesturing for her to eat them. She enjoyed the first few bites and then took them back to her parents. This time too, I didn’t watch Iren go back to them until the end. Before long, darkness fell, and we began to take the children home.

flour
grain
water
corn
barley
potatoes, etc.
are kneaded and then baked
or steamed
to make
which is not the case now
in the old days
was the solution to hunger
because it could be eaten
not all at once but
for a long time
little by little

I sometimes miss the old fence
at my junior high school
over the barbed wire,
and the old lady
who handed me bread and took my
crumpled paper money
whose face I never saw

I also think of the relationship
between bread and poetry:
poetry of bread
poetry in bread
poetry with bread
and tear-soaked bread
rubbed down with tears that won't fall
bread is the crown of poetry

The appearance of bread
that is transparent
the voice of birds
enduring
starvation and longing
forlornnessless, priceless bread
soothes
unknown poet of readers?

How to Drive Excitingly on the Highway

Run with good people and good news in good weather

1. Stop at rest areas often. Always use the restroom
2. Don't be interested, look around
3. Don't look at the scenery, show yourself
4. Don't get addicted to smoking, drinking, or dancing
5. Follow traffic lights and lanes. Use the blinker lights well
6. Don't waste time
7. Don't satisfy your greed, give up greed
8. Fill up your gas or electricity
9. Check your tires
10. Don't judge the people you meet.
Conclusion: If you do this, you'll write well and quickly.

On that road

Always excitement and regret

Even if everything is lacking

And joy and

Even if the pain of first love and first rebellion

I see

Slowly, very slowly

Savoring the time

Recalling the scenery and neighbors that have not changed

To hide my changed appearance

To get rid of my shadows

I greet politely

To the trees that have not changed

To the path, the stream, and the clouds

I wave my hands

And those
I hated
Running from afar

Waving their bodies like waves

To me

On the invisible road

Running to me..........

The tree called humanity
has in its seeds the qualities of
hatred and jealousy, so that it
prefers the private to the public
and hides it with jealousy
and utilizes
the false image of love
by jealousy. That is the love button
and it is hate.

Since childhood
the voice of a chasing chicken
was very strange
but it made his day

He opened chicken house door
eggs hiding in the straw
took them out
embracing on chest
with both hands
the day began enjoyable

Decades later
with these two memories
his childhood
is satisfying his life
as an empty parking lot.

- Welcome to new year

from afar, birds and
the lanterns of the town
old, my old sorrows again
Mid-October
with the scent of the vague season
forgotten jealousy and weak love
silent flowers and
the air and the trees
the glowing silence
stained with melancholy,
solitude and possessiveness
people in the streets
As water flows,
so do the rivers of language
follow the serpent's trail
through the valleys
past the meadows
with a heart of faint doubt
to greet the day
And embrace my tears.

Today I went to a Leonia Park with grandchildren. I was busy playing with them. at some point I noticed an unfamiliar child looking up at me and smiling. The child was wearing shabby clothes, had unkempt hair, sunburned cheeks. But that was so lovely like a gem in the mud but another child with nice clothes, well-groomed hair, and sun-kissed cheeks can never possess it. despite my own worn-out smile, I smiled back at the child as a gesture of gratitude. Then the child began to follow us and played together. especially the view of the child struggling to lift Samuel and trying to place him on a horse saddle or staircase is indescribable in words. Then I saw the child's back as she returned to parents. soon after someone called out "Irene" so I thought the child's name is Irene. Irene came over with a cookie in the left hand and placed it in Samuel's hand and then returned to them. I imagine they might be crying somewhere in the playground. I called Irene and gave two oranges and yogurt, gesturing for Irene to eat them. Irene enjoyed the first few drinks and then took them back to them. This time too, I didn't watch Irene go back to them until the end. Before long, darkness fell and I left for home with the children and Irene's gaze in my heart.

I want to write poetry
not commodities
as works of art
that give answers
that are not correct
not childish
with the same voice
and different echoes
come together
without myself

Because we both love
Edward Hopper
We don't understand very well
each other
but I'm sure
we'll connecting well
with the heart
Thank you.

Show big things with small things
Show small things with big things
Big and small things will show you.

I went to the grocery store to buy
a pumpkin that's good for us

I saw several types of
pumpkins
I chose an old pumpkin

I was standing at the checkout counter
and the lady checking out
said
"Can't you look at old pumpkins funny?
It's more expensive than a young pumpkin."

I laughed and said
"It's not like people"
we wouldn't have done this
from the start either.

when the falling dots
become a curve line
painter can abandon technique

when the dusts of reality
become a straight line
politician can abandon revenge

when the screams of history
become a poetry pages
poet can escape the quagmire.

while driving
something yellow
red
and black
fell onto the windshield
Was it a leaf?
Was it a butterfly?
Did I see it wrong?
after driving for a while
I saw it again.
It was the insect
I hated the most
It was two wings
The insect hesitated
looked at me
and flew away faster than
the car.

I look at the horizon
clouds wetting the sea
pale blue wave disheveled hairs
in the July breeze
dancing
with the green ripples
at my feet
as evening falls
drawing a crescent moon
over the dark coffee-colored beach
white seagulls
black seagulls
covering the grumbling of
the grainy sand.

God's Seat
when human religion sits
faith becomes ideology
and becomes illusion

When religion
becomes the cushion of Human
it is liberated
it becomes reality.

No matter how fast you fly,
can't escape this universe

If you can escape, it won't be at
speed.

glasses
make it easier to see
sunglasses?

waves in your sea
   a Song of sky
cliff protects their sorrows
   high and high of moment

reloads in my river
   a lament of land
cliff protects their question
   low and low of forever..

Is life burning?
Autumn leaves
Can you burn the mountains?
Not hotly
But with a burning longing
To let me breathe
You give me
The grain in the storehouse
Rice, barley, honey
And the key to the storehouse
Where dusk is stored.

Value symbols, but don't become a symbolist.
Value images, but don't become an image-oriented person.
Value form, but don't become a formalist.
Value facts, but don't become a realist.
Value philosophy, but don't become a demagogue.
Value the invisible, but don't become a religious fanatic.
Value resistance, but don't become a revolutionary.
Value romance, but do not become a romantic.
Value history, but do not become a historian.
Value leadership, but do not become a dictator.
Value intelligence, but do not become an intellectual.
Value liberation, but do not become a surrealist.
Value ethnicity, but do not become a nationalist.
Value freedom, but do not become a liberal.
Value equality, but do not become an egalitarian.
No matter how valuable it may be, do not express it as an ideology.
That does not mean you should become a decadent.

Lamp...childhood sumer
Chair...best friend
Cup...first love
Door...hospital greetings
Space...mom & baby
Time...baby & dad
Bird...spring lake
Branch...heavy snowfall
Sky...Gogh's letters
Wall...prison freedom
Table...hungry families
Darkness...(childhood) night move.

December
Heavy Boulder
Frozen Ground
Wandering the Barley Fields

Tearless and then
When Spring comes
New Barley
Rises powerfully.

sound of insects
fills the air
while walking with wife
sounds of
wind's hairs
cicadas
crickets
and car headlights
as well as the whispers of loving couples
overflow onto the darkened road...

without accepting differences
not loving them
difference is something
to be hated
but
only when it benefits them
USE
Why
differences exist?
because we have the power to love
those who ignore this capacity
they are the extremists

Look at human history!

When
going home
going to work
passing through the streets
sound of crackling
sound of fighting
sound of my hometown
welling up
from the ocean
beyond the buildings.

all Night
drink overflowing glasses
of Whiskey
outside the cart bar
blowing up
Tantrum with the cigarette smoke
turn around and going home
follow us to the end
sleeping together
our story.

To deny is to admit
To admit is to deny.

Before I got married
When we were dating
we'd stop by a bookstore
People said
"You two look so much alike"
I laughed because it felt good

Actually
my wife is very good looking
I am very ugly

In 35 years of marriage
I never heard anyone say that
Then today
I met a farmer couple in the parking lot
and we got to talking about this and that

“You have to work
as if there is no blood or tears
for your customers.”

I told them my story
They looked back and forth
between my wife and me and said
"You two look a lot alike."
I said, "How nice."
This time my wife laughed along with us

Really,
love makes us look alike
there are no conditions
and that's why I thought
love is beautiful and great

Oh Happy Day.

flowing water
hiding what is visible
revealing what is invisible
heading downward
with dignity...

I visited the son of an acquaintance who was hospitalized for mental illness. He is kind and intelligent, but his anger prevents him from functioning properly in society. I think he developed this illness after suffering from intense competition while working at *** in the United States. My wife and I went to talk with him, and he seemed much better. He waited for us to speak, responded, and even played arm wrestling with us. Meanwhile, next to us, a 60-year-old mother was visiting her 40-year-old daughter. The daughter was constantly shaking her legs, had almost no expression, and seemed listless, but she continued the conversation. However, the mother greeted us, introduced her daughter's name, and expressed pride in her. Despite her daughter's many shortcomings and problems, the mother cherished and took pride in her daughter, and I experienced a truly beautiful moment feeling the mother's maternal love.

It stands out from the other gates
It is a gate that is there but not there
a small gate
the most beautiful gate of all

It is a gate that does not require a key
It is a gate that all can open
It is a gate of love

A gate that sings as the wind passes by
A gate that sings as the moonlight passes by
A gate that makes everything sing
including the puppy
—the gate interwind with beings.

Even as time passes
It does not fade away
Even when people leave
It does not go away
A hawker's longing
The song of shadows.

live
as if
today is
your last day
long for eternity.

live
as if
you will live
forever
long for today.

The ocean water hits the cliffs
It writes poetry
carrying them hit cliffs
The waves sail
The ocean makes shores
and dances
songs of the sea
In its bed of dreams
the sea is whispering
Quiet
quiet
Quiet
The ocean that cannot rest
is watching
your heart.

By the grass
Small vegetable garden
in between
hiding
grazing on the grass
When,
a white butterfly
is hovering around them
is touching
slightly
              quietly
                          lightly.

do not count what you have given,
but count what you have received.