Immigrants to Shared Language

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Eun Ji, through you I kissed
The Dreamtime of common language
Not Korean, I only wish I knew

The melodic meaning behind those terms
Or the cartoony cute reverent figures that is Korean
Some far-fetched video-game looking script

I say it all, as a poem I wanted to show someone
In the gravity of their blog, their small snippets
Of social media performance, with only a hint

***

At the grave, private, intense character beneath
I chose to follow you in half-blotted darkness
In the crevices between greetings to the moon

And chilled reminders of who we are
In the post-modern deconstructionism of our times
In the academic wanderings of the MFA-prototype

The studious academic workaholic woman
And how to draw a circle around such a speaker
And what secrets might be locked in-between

***

Her sentences, like rugged wounds left there to heal
I am like a fabled half man, half dragon
Chasing the poetess across Taoist distances

Where even in Korean memory it took shape beneath
Time and I got lost in the middle of nowhere
But that somewhere was always with you

And our final notions are rarely our final resting places
Though it touches you through your ribs
Like diamond memories so transparent

Tough and delicate are the intimate seasons
That gives us not enough time to whisper
To the invisible spirit that drives us

***

Relentlessly as if to accomplish novels and books
We required some champion of inspiration
Tragic in the anonymity of the performance

As if I’ve reached for your lines (I have)
Beyond experience, or from alternative universes
An anomaly of letters that strike the dead

In the thirst of the living, in the throats
That beg for water, for the magical language
As a pilot might touch your finger in the dark

***

To find fresh-drawn poetic language
That composes itself with petals and sun-beds
To blunder over literature and those golden lamps

We are prospective immigrants ready
To land into the prosperity of language
Even if we do not speak the same tones

You make no promises in your infrequent correspondences
And there is risk I’ve remembered you
Without enough light to enter the windows.

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