After Taking with Miss Sun


 

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We, do not sleep at night

We collide with stars

Our cold part goes into the Milky way

To be swept by the tides of clarity

Neuron reaches albino heart

 

Hope bleeds victory plump as the Moon

For a time, it’s 3am when you realize

That I labour like an Asian, but to no avail

Work does not win us friends

Success does not win us love

 

Nothing else matters but poetry and love

We can die in poverty, happy, finally

For simplicity is what it is

Our soul the necessary action of

Mortal hours wasted, or won

 

Like the calm hush of a thousand winters

We’ll only see sixty, maybe a few more

I won’t live forever, I’ll go hungry

Into the beyond, writing poems for reincarnations

Where I will forget what poems were or are

 

Or who made them and by whose hands

I’ll go like a surrendered flag bloody

With no business writing, I’ll just write

For myself, like a lost soul without a Sun

No map will recover who I was, that

 

Being who was never understood, nobody knew

How the pale baby of our dreams slip away

We, do not sleep at night

We just remember that thing that escape memory

It plummets like the night sky

 

Walking past the lives we could have had

Ignoring who was our wife in an alternate universe

There’s no composure to wasting potential

It’s just all we can do in the bottleneck design

Of a capitalistic world created to eat itself

 

There’s no room for love for me, only survival

I am a masochist, martyr, beggar and dreamer

That’s the last monument to my failed Ego

I have enough ID to last me into dog-eared certainty

I’m certain I love life more than others

Even if it does not always seem that way.

 

E.J’s Trip rope


 

 

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Eun Ji, how does a poem grow

From your shoulders as the years shine

Like a woman’s sadness that shuffles as it aches

Or elongated moves from man to man

 

In the cold months of identity in elegant death

I’ve watched you across books, speeches,

Highs and lows with hair hung in confession

And I’ve seen the fun house of your erections and

 

Encompassing many kinds of awareness

I’ve seen you cry in a poem

And I haven’t a clue what the end-game is

Nor how far we can push language at its brink

 

Or what gamification allows us to sing

When all the trees have been downed

And all the books have gone unread

Drowned in a sea of screens, lives churning

 

From reality, waiting impatiently at the

Digital timelines, tunnels into simulation

Eun Ji, will you even remember the syllables

That stretched your heart to your cheek

 

You were mad with the ocean once

And hearing you speak Korean, I felt landlocked

A permanently strange indentation in your psyche

You would never feel, you suspected it was

 

A native part of your own psyche, and I was just

The circus-gear of your imagination

An opened mouthed and clumsy sport gone unwhispered

No, I was the whisper of hypnosis that dilated

Your hardy gone funky work ethic of verse.