Sunlight lifted with Her golden fingers


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Hae.mi, as the golden sun interlopes
With the falling snowflakes, I see the destiny
Of how to trust the universe
It’s a woman who teaches, it’s a man who obeys

Like a lullaby of sweetly flowing years
“Trust the universe”
“You will be happy”
The nations can rage on, I do not care

Friends and lovers are free
To call my bluff, I enjoy the calm
Of solitude, the way the harmless hours
Merge into the sea of experience

Hae.mi, we do not need much love to survive
Only one drop of truth in our hearts
To believe that anything is possible
When the sun is low, and I am a colored singer

Who can hear the charm of the soul
It does not matter if I am simple, poor, barren
The world is wide, it extends to all people
I am a servant of the universe

With or without my consent, I pray at the chapple
Of her designs, and my tears are pure gratitude
There’s nothing left when memories burn away
Only beauty, only the inquiring mind

Of one for the many, of light for its unity
Of darkness, for the bird islands of life
You are as much alive as you dance in my cells
There’s no need to possess, when bliss is a substitute

In the meditation of our lives, art reassures us
That our suffering has spiritual meaning
The same mist hangs, as in ancient times
Your human eyes, pieces all that I am
To see divinity in a human form, is its own reward.

No Word About Love


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The clock is chiming in our wombs
Ready for a new world to be born
Time never outlasts our heroism
If only we realized the end could be near

It’s austere to love this world and her music
Too much, I think sometimes I do
Farewell to another lonely year
How had you loved? Who cares what you did!

Time is running with new longings
I feel them in you, in kind
Distance from afar, spooky action noted
Love’s feature-bliss has no casual witnesses

It’s something white hot inside of us
It’s the need to create more than
Software, more than poems
More than playing in the dark

The clock is running out of hands
And my intent is running out of eyes
I don’t have the eyes in this world
To see all the beauty, and participate

Sometimes in a revolution, when the
Activists have all died, what shall we do?
When there’s nobody to read the books we write
No word about love, in such a brutal world

No men to embrace, no women to educate us!
And this moonlight looks for the end of all adoring
But I cannot help myself, I’m foolish in all things
The clock keeps me grounded in absurdity

Never a nihilist, I laugh shyly into the wild
I’m always the honored guest at the feasts
Of the imagination, where I roam freely
But, the partners are sourly missing

I’m holding my own hand in this anonymous playground
Committing blunders for my scanty hope
So long I’d live and work alone
That I might forget all heart and mercy
Or suffer time’s designs with stronger plans.

Songs of Ren & Chou


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The dawn disrupts me with your fierce qualities
I am so vulnerable, watching thee
Fight for causes I wish I could own with thee
And belong to a voice that has that melody

My words rain over your tweets like New York lights
I delight in your footsteps in the snow
In the dark hazel and rustic baskets
Of your laughter, I follow where you go

I delight ever in your small triumphs
And grow a Titan’s fever for your trials
Small place and random wonder for the
Valley below, my dears, it’s anonymous

Like how spring will come to you in cherry trees
And the worlds you will see, that I will not
But I can share the foam of your dreams from afar
Like raspberry whispers in the after-thoughts

Of my heart that is bigger than it should be
And my soul that hangs lost in a quote
My love is an open-secret for your sport
Humanity disrupts the things we used to know

Don’t go too far off, let me ride the companionless dark
I want to know what aches at the empty stations
And how your movements chime in the smiling years
The lady soldiers of technology, freedom and the new world

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where
The idealism of the young is never squandered
It relapses in waves across the cosmos
And burns in the memories of we are meant to become.

Spectrum of Glee


 

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Reality disintegrates the fantasies of yesterday

Memories like the lightning, never to be turned on again

Seasons change their gloves

 

 

Smiles become familiar, not losing depth

I run to you ceaselessly, in the night

Where I have no spare awareness of where I belong

 

 

I run to your embrace, where the gorgeous stained glass

Of superficial time is broken, Hae.mi, where the artists resides

There I look for you in the canvas, there I spy you in the kindergartens

 

 

Where with moon sheaths and inlets of dream, I embark

Upon care, repeated in the lost souls of nomads, misadventures, that

Questioning feeling, have we ever truly been loved?

 

 

There are no deep roots in this world, only blood bonds

And the sanctuary of shared mind and heart space

There on the buds of time, I found Hae.mi, pure and sublime

 

 

Seasons change their cubs

Smiles become grave, wrinkles shine

And hair glistens white, I run to you ceaselessly, as if you were the night

 

 

Where I enjoy last comforts of the weary world

Where I entrust my vulnerability, my longing

For you, is the path of dream, the brightness of the rogue

Hae.mi, where the pioneers find, the last diamonds of life.

City Limits


It has been some time since

I had been inspired, with dimples

And the juices of hope lit on fire

Like a karosine of kaleidoscopes

 

Rose petals stuck between my lips

It’s torture to live in the pen

When the heart forgets what it is to live

It has been long, Hae.mi, between sunsets

 

In the city of so much french-this-and-that

I may not discover love at the city’s limits

For I live a hermit in my own airy castles

I’ve got to write, like an unbearable bribery of hope

 

Where I am a thief, and you are the woman I most desire

Where foreign loans are paid in poems

Poems to the lost souls and coveted mothers

Hae.mi, it has been quiet a while

 

Since I was a third thief, by writing and by touch

The slipper dress of a fleeting caress

A see-through moment in shared secrecy

Where passion stalks on the invisible up and up.

I Close My Eyes


 

Let me kiss the softness of the night

Hae.mi, to which I’ll never know

I am the wildness in your purity

Though if I yearn for it too much, it will go

Into the music of misaligned intention

Into the pictures of faces unknown

Back to the masses of our stories

Our stories that are always wounded

You say I remind you of some unpleasantness

Can I not exalt and rejoice in each invisible encounter

For in my poverty of heart, I’m indebted to be haunted

I am very dark, but lovely, and loving – or else

An anonymous thief, ready to be caught

As a famous beggar for gifts of tenderness

I am the mystic honey in the simultaneous midnight

I am the lonely wolf of lost time, there’s no room for me

Between earthly lives and mothers and sons, I’ve been left

Abandoned by the vulnerable timid ones so cautious

There are silver scales in my snowy pupils

And I am your student, fine-arted through the fall

Let me embrace what I cannot possess, Hae.mi, I am dumbfounded

Though I indeed was once so innocent

There’s no closure until the time of new lovers

I know how sleek the seasons move

The souls of winter are my fondest friends

We’re all souls of mothers and pieces of each other.

Isn’t It

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Haemi’s heartbeat is listening to the Autumn dew Listening to breathing with the warm sun softly nestled On the branches of our healed hearts Where there’s no poverty in loving And no boredom in risking the gift of sharing Where … Continue reading

The Growth Hackers


 

 

To have freedom Is not enough

In the half-sun where the future occurs

Faster and more brilliantly forever forward

I to innovation, must agree

 

That my life isn’t mine, it belongs

To the world, to a future I help build

To answers in my deepest questions

I resist the apocalypse of selfishness

 

Which is breeding, belonging and complacency

I do not accept comforts of organic repetition

There are enough billions of lives here

I give my life to something else

 

To have dream is not enough

We must be entrepreneurs, thinkers, philosophers

And create the light that changes

Our own apocalypse of meaning

 

Existence is then to be a coder

To self-learn so hard, we become

Another person, every decade, every moment.

Untamed Time


 

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Overnight where I slept

I felt the chill of eternity

Sweep through the years of this body

 

And my brain was only an experience

It wasn’t real if real things last

The love I had I gave to the Earth

 

To her children and the soil

Where I grew a garden in my mind

There was no love there

 

Just the thrill of a destiny

Broken and churned like

The pangs of creation gone un-nurtured

 

Sleep was like that in mortality

A kind of escape from the anxiety

Of living and not knowing how to

 

Create destiny with mere tools

And hope out of loneliness.

 

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.

The End of Chapters of Rhyming


 

When she transformed into a butterfly
There was no turning back
Eun Ji, we sail on point into some unknown

No thanks or apologies can make it right
There is no apology for our place on Earth
And no gratitude strong enough to repay these debts

If I feel as if the top of my head
Where being blown by the sun
I would give up poetry and become distilled
Into something the centuries crave
And I once possessed, but it would not be me

Nothing is mine, that I have done
The human heart knows no boundaries
Identity and separation, are but convenient devices

Poetry is the oldest lie, so when we leave her
Dangling, we make a personal promise
To be truthful, to be realistic

And emotion has found itself out
And no longer finds words, we are set free
If to be a poet is not a profession, but a condition
Then the former poet can go on to other things
Bringing the craft of not understanding

Bringing the dreamer to the ends of time
Where the universe conspires in secrecy
If in the end you tried and cared
Let that be enough to start your new life.

New Instagram


To all my loyal friends on here and faithful readers, you know who you are. Can you please add me on Instagram, I want to follow you guys on there.

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This is my current handle: https://instagram.com/iamwuji/

Seen below


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Bathed in Sun of dragon scales

My meditation with Autumn
Has already begun, I grow in seasons
Jade dew withers my wounds like
Maple trees and the sap of kings
My blood is royal with chrysanthemum

I enjoy with the earth her own darkness
As the stars weep for my heart full of some home
I cannot name, these people pass by
Like stones swept with the river
I do not have friends but rather

Watch the colors of the leaves change
Every day I follow the moods of nature
As if they were my own, I mirror them
As the red reed flowers shine, so shall I
In the valley of Autumn, I am complete

The setting suns slant in my body of change
I’m growing older with organic tears
For a world that has hardly begun to change
Perhaps my machine-learning descendents
Will do better than we, as swallows fly and fly

My wishes won’t be realized in this life
But maybe others will continue
In the quiet harbors of morning light
The river and the tower and the green hill
Become symbols for us all, time and nature complete

The chapters in our mortal lives that
Went wasted, like the cruel paths of fate
That when once is taken, another bend turns out of view
I’ve won little praise, but fortune
Is not to be measured in wealth

But in the internal events of our dearest dreams
Where things like home, and fish, and dragons
Have a different sort of meaning
And the game of chess with the universe
Always ends with a queen, and shifting clouds
And the golden stem that is the memory
Of passage, the descendent jewels that were lost.

Unmentionables


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Unmentionables

Come slowly, into my life
Like a tail wind of all the charm
I always wished for, but never found
The church of my faith is dim

I could submit so easily to the right person
Reaching late for a flower
Round my heart that hums
And lost in balms I’d be

A secret for you to savour, dear
Lost I am lit for this
Counting stars and nectars
In solitude, but not alone

I would be united
In every drop of blood
With something of life’s mystery
Eros to harrow in my looks

Wild winds to sweet my fears away
Uprooted yesterdays, I’d be
Vengeance of all the thrift
You saved in your years

Of places you never went
And intimacy you always craved.

On Learning to Tweet


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On Learning to Tweet

I tweet my own quotations
Exposed in lyrical Haikus blended together
I’ve hashtags for my own symphonies

Little themes I rehash with ginger-lemon tea
After midnight, with a glass of red wine
I yearn to be defeated by greater
Things than I by myself could access
That’s the synergy of souls
We’re walking catalysts, you and I

Out in the crazy dark, we’re vulnerable
It’s a tremendous act of violence
To endure solitude, we’re not bred for it

I don’t condone you for being platonic with it
But I worry about you, I tweet
My worries about how strong you have grown
And I tried to reproduce myself
Objectively, and failed, and left

Unquestioning of my own subjectivity
Distorted, human, insufferable to myself
I left you there, truly about to sing

You wanted different breaths and
Required an excessive amount
Of space to find it, I learned finally
To let you be.

Translations before Novels


15
Caution & Awe

I would rather steer a song into flowers
than see your past self hurt, witness your regret
Over drugs or the years before novels
Bring me your hoodie intensity

Your tendency to be unable to hold your bladder
I want the all of you, the soul
Of the immigrant who translated Korean
In her bedroom as a reminder of who she is

Let’s not eat dinner, let’s create
Let’s accept love in what we do
Without any exchange, barter, trade
I know how it feels when a mother leaves

I would rather be an archaeologist
Of the human psyche than a lot of things
Where our fossil memory is connected
Strangely to our ancestors, I sometimes wonder

Will I even have direct decedents
Or only students of my mind , if that
There is no writing to be done, without
The commitment, honesty and labour

Of the thriving voice within, it knows
The epitaphs are made to be combined with flowers
You were the kind of flower whose
Fragrance lingered, enough for me

To proceed with utmost caution and awe
In my own translations of your poetic voice.

Fragment from the white space


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Fragment from the white space

You matter
Little to the universe
Or a lot! It depends
On the quantum variable

Of your energy quotient!
Don’t fret, love is a conversation
With the universe
It’s inevitable

So do ….not fret.
You matter
Because your universe
Spreads over to mine

Reality is a shared meaning
The narrative you can’t escape
Even if you die, you live on
Like words left as information

And information extinct
Poems written in a mac book air
You are full of so much longing
A living ode to hunger

Lyrical, smart, still awkward
With vulnerability, but photogenic
Humility is socialized
Or a matter of personality

You matter
To the universe as much
As you would assume
Or a lot, if you are
Having a good day.

Last Stop


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There is a last stop in all of us
A place our soul consents to rest
Few were the moonlit nights
That I’ve truly cared for after all

In the alphabet of stars
Time carried me until I was
Completely different
And with a fatigue of thought

I settled on dying a white death
After people were forgotten
There were still my dreams
Dreams I had held on to in spite

Of difficulties, tempests, dishonour
But memory is just a day
When somebody we cared for

Is replaced by somebody else or
The fleeting thing of hours
The turbulent street where everything blurs.

SONATA OF THE ETERNAL KISS


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Give yourself to the air
To what you cannot hold
To feeling, the entered breathing
And expanded until you

No longer had a heart
But became every heart
No longer had lungs
But became every sky

You where the heart begins
You where inhaling and exhaling ends
Fear not the pain, of heavy earthly tragedy
It rolls off your skin

Like childhood forgotten
The metaphors have endured
The love has been inherited
And beauty longs to happen

To awaken to the transient
With pictures of brief hours
That were once yours
Give yourself to the water

To what you cannot hold
To fires that were passions
In weeping in a stranger’s arms
To sleep that felt eternal

And rest that felt like laughter
Where pain can enter, and leave
With no resistance in your body
And maybe those who come after you

Will feel the streams of fullness
In greater degrees, wider magnitudes.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/kiss-28741503

Wasn’t the Road Filled With Eternal Welcome?


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Telling you all would take too long
About the wholes and misfortunes
These breakthroughs through errors
A memory more persistent than love

But I’m okay, perhaps our lives
Are no more than the fire’s reflection
Complicated by Plato, flabbergasted by Nietzsche
I must sing the years full of
Sweet abandoned voices

Places I have been, what I have seen
Vulnerable in the public squares
Telling you all would be seriously wrong
We have our special secrets, our wanton surprises
The double anguish, wounds that

Won’t probably ever go away
Prisoners, genuine humble pilgrims
I want no descendents, I want
No shadows in their blood
No more serotonin misfits

Tell you all would mean mourning freedom
And I don’t mind being alone
For in solitude I’m always in ecstasy
Always writing poems to nobody.