Waiting
Dead sea, gutted fish.
In this world, you are the only one. No
sense in blank omissions. I do not believe in heaven;
time may change that. The fish stare in silence,
and I love… the time we hand painted cups,
nestled them away in a box. Regret:
tired attempts, the briny flesh of someday.
The room
Laying on hard mattress, too hot under the comforter
I say “I wish this moment was eternal” to myself
And the clustered sounds of the night, are drowned out by tender breathing
The polluted outside air, dominated by a scent of home
I say “I wish this moment was eternal” to myself
And the clustered sounds of the night, are drowned out by tender breathing
The polluted outside air, dominated by a scent of home
I say “I wish this moment was eternal” to myself
I trace the outer edges of your face, so my heart can think back to
The polluted outside air, dominated by a scent of home
This moment now unforgettable, a welcomed repetition
I trace the outer edges of your face, so my heart can think back to
The polluted outside air, dominated by a scent of home
This moment now unforgettable, a welcomed repetition
I trace the outer edges of your face, so my heart can think back to
A rising, infatuating, yearning in my chest, to touch you again
This moment now unforgettable, a welcomed repetition
Time and distance our enemies, dreams and memory our hope
A rising, infatuating, yearning in my chest, to touch you again
This moment now unforgettable, a welcomed repetition
Time and distance our enemies, dreams and memory our hope
You brew barley tea, temporary liquid disarray, an earthy taste
And the clustered sounds of the night, are drowned out by tender breathing
And the silence between us, brings me deafening solace
Laying on hard mattress, too hot under the comforter
And the clustered sounds of the night, are drowned out by tender breathing
And the silence between us, brings me deafening solace
Laying on hard mattress, too hot under the comforter
Papá
(Inspired by Amá, by Erika L. Sanchez; Lessons on Expulsion)
When I missed that flight
to Nayarit at age fifteen
I pinned you as false witness,
stuffed the memory down
my ripped denim pockets.
Papá, perdoname.
I understand now.
It wasn’t just stubbornness
not just my innocence,
or lack of independence.
After all they say, that if you love
something let it go. But you
were never one to gamble.
I understand now.
It wasn’t just stubbornness
not just my innocence,
or lack of independence.
After all they say, that if you love
something let it go. But you
were never one to gamble.
In Seoul, I saw a cotorro in a pet shop,
my reflection contorted
to the bird’s delicate intensity.
my reflection contorted
to the bird’s delicate intensity.
On each bus back to Hapjeong,
I felt a stone churn in my chest,
thought about what might be
inside your own denim pockets.
I felt a stone churn in my chest,
thought about what might be
inside your own denim pockets.
Papá, I thought of you
as I trudged through my exhaustion,
every time the damned
children didn’t listen to directions,
when I saw the first
frigid snow fall.
as I trudged through my exhaustion,
every time the damned
children didn’t listen to directions,
when I saw the first
frigid snow fall.
Papá, I leave because I have to
because I’ve left pieces of me scattered
and I must return to pick up the litter.
because I’ve left pieces of me scattered
and I must return to pick up the litter.
Papá, I wanted to tell you
about the tecolote I heard outside
my window. About how in Hongdae
I found love, and also fear.
about the tecolote I heard outside
my window. About how in Hongdae
I found love, and also fear.
About the time I couldn’t
swallow my own poison by the Han river,
and the loneliness
I thought I’d said goodbye to.
swallow my own poison by the Han river,
and the loneliness
I thought I’d said goodbye to.
Fragments of my grandfather
My father often told me
ghost stories
tall dark figures and frozen hooves
wind howling and whispered
prayers
ghost stories
tall dark figures and frozen hooves
wind howling and whispered
prayers
he’d say they’re
the devil
demons
vengeful spirits
but never
souls
lost or looking.
So I don’t believe,
but I want to.
the devil
demons
vengeful spirits
but never
souls
lost or looking.
So I don’t believe,
but I want to.
I touch the soft white feathers of an owl,
the smooth innocence of comfort,
non-clairvoyance.
But it’s not an owl,
It’s your
hair.
And it’s not going to be okay.
the smooth innocence of comfort,
non-clairvoyance.
But it’s not an owl,
It’s your
hair.
And it’s not going to be okay.
Negligence
is a dirty word
dark colored and unintentional
like the ghost in the stories
except
real
and I don’t want to believe
in that kind of
spirit.
is a dirty word
dark colored and unintentional
like the ghost in the stories
except
real
and I don’t want to believe
in that kind of
spirit.
Tears falling from my father’s eyes
hospital white
smelling of disinfected mistakes.
hospital white
smelling of disinfected mistakes.
I wonder if they ever think of you?
Of what they’ve done?
Of who they left behind.
Of what they’ve done?
Of who they left behind.
Your dream-like breath was
soft
and unconcerned
my touch was
nervous
regret creeping side by side
with future.
soft
and unconcerned
my touch was
nervous
regret creeping side by side
with future.
Hold back.
said subconscious.
Why?
said regret.
said subconscious.
Why?
said regret.
My cousin often told me
ghost stories
a tall dark figure
following
watching
from afar.
ghost stories
a tall dark figure
following
watching
from afar.
It was probably a demon
he said
Sometimes I still see him.
he said
Sometimes I still see him.
I wish your ghost
still followed me.
still followed me.