27 March 2008


551
The cat is dying and it is as absurd
Night birdsong from the dark trees.
His paws have become names, individual.
Cars in the way whisper to each other,
The street become pew in fond solemnity.
They are all one, we know, mute
Then in recognition, as now.

24 March 2008


550
(scene from "Bunshinsaba", 2004, dir. Byeong-ki Ahn.)

549
In spring is time into solace
Is winter's autumn
Is 8-mins light's grace a green jot prolonged
Is a time in time braced and held aloft,
And past present
And burst flecks tidy
In diverted gaze
Caught by a spring bird.

16 March 2008


542
The firstling of my heart unstay my hand
To blood the invaliant rose;
And in my oversaying eye,
Decarnadine this salt pricklet.
.
Poor soul, two selves in one:
2PM other may note a day moon--
An interior quality sees the sun.



13 March 2008


539
In the pale ward corridor
The white tiles just out of hearing
Whispered, behind footstep or caught word,
Of ghost memory,
Of lost nights coalesced
In one moment, and time become rumor.
.
At the perimeter, in daylit velocity,
The stones are slant spines on the green shelf,
With spare entitlement sufficient.

10 March 2008


537
In the storm's small aftermath
In the wind-set twigs and branches
Fortune-tossed and telling
As the shaman's ancient bones,
I stood out of the moment
In future's skewed abstract.
What sun-lit crucible depending
From a morning sky?
Midway lost in willed illusion,
Mazed in self-deceit;
Then embered in rheum-eyed clear,
Letting footfall to the unmarked path.

05 March 2008


532
In her here there's the blue bell
Warm as tears.
In her there there's the gold
As a faint dry tang
Of a strand of, not caught by, but become
A filament of sun.
Yet the moon's-eye blue
Is ours, soft as sleep finger's forgotten
Intertwinement.

03 March 2008




530


for JS.


There was nothing beneath you, no substance
Nor surface underpinned.
You were
In bound abandon, done--
The evoked completion of another space.
Before I chanced to see
Your imprint in the field was gone.

01 March 2008


529
Not the tint blur, but the repose
Of the red bird;
Spacious in brevity--
A pinned retina drop
In one stillness fraught.

528