Perfectly Red #amwriting #erotic #NaPoWriMo #AppreciateAnAuthor

Perfectly Red

What if I were to tell you,
I am profoundly enchanted
By the flowing complexity in you
Would you believe me, that I have read
You like a novel, dove into your skin

Your diaries I’ve taken into my heart
Move me, may I be the one to
Unlace your secrets down your spine
Hitching up your skirt to straddle your mind
They saw the brain is the most erotic organ

In ways you are but and will remain a stranger
Like a seed I will never sow
And with lips I am yet to ever kiss
With eyes that have not met in a flood
Of these lingering touches I’ve never known

What if I am aroused by your
Labour of scripture, your tyranny of ambition
When it comes to authors, they are not
Required to be naked in bed to make love
All it takes are the tools of

Our minds writing letters at an uncontrollable pace
But I suspect, you like to pull close
Then dart away, breathing in short bursts
In anticipation of the next melting
Where you are perfection and I am

Always slightly ready, with mouth of wonder slightly open
And heart turned wet in a stranger’s kiss.

We are the same

We are the same

우리는 같은 정신을 가지고
(or we have the same spirit)

I cannot become the love
I eternally wanted to be
It wasn’t something I could understand
Get my head around, get my heart into

It wasn’t something I could feel all the way
It wasn’t something I knew
Totally how to give, or get
They say love is like the Tao

It’s a well that can never be dried up
It’s also like the eternal void
Full of new births, infinite possibilities
I meditated with the traces of it

Like lives with a spiritual tracing
So that I might inundate
My entire being in it
And If I disappeared for a while

It was only to complement
It’s omnipotent alchemy
And be submerged in its power of peace
I knew somehow vaguely that

Love was everything that exists
And also knew, I was more herself than she was
I was whatever our souls were made of
And hers and mine, well we were the same

We are the same, and sometimes
That’s all that can give me strength.

Gamification of a Totem

Gamification of a Totem

Spirits are about obedience
My totem is as Asian woman
Whom I have never met

But tell me, friend
How to obey a poetic movement?
That dominates your life like addiction

Like concentration, in turmoil
Alive with all the grief
Transcendent, agonized, clarifications

All those lyrics of clarity
The necessary permutations
Of ghosts born to die and ancestors reborn

Poets are about themselves
They could be able to talk to each other
But who would read them then?

There is no more powerful revenge
Of words than to love
Loving is primary, primal, predominant

After everything goes red
After everything gets, a little crazy
Narcissism will do, sure, why not!

What does that tattoo on your neck say?
Is it relevant, pertinent, how many have you
Loved like that, spirits are about obedience

My totem is daunting me, from across
The continent, I can hear her laughter
As she grows from girl to woman

From student to guest speaker
From coffee shop drifter to
University professor, what else can she do?

The Poetic Journey

The Poetic Journey

There is a fasciation in doing
What we do, it might have been
The most genuine obsession I came upon
An altruism of a neurochemical

Some self-reward mechanism akin to
Meditation, the journey of words
It’s a customer journey of art
Of taking a craft and doing it

For an hour, a year, a lifetime
Musicians practice ten hours a day
But I’m compelled to listen
To the silence and for collisions

To collude with voices, ghosts, poets
To love what you do in gender, exhibition
Without rewards, not for profit
Sharing it freely with a world

Anonymous, not regretting
Borrowing and borrowed
Never really bored, only sitting alone
For hours pouring, peering, patiently

Waiting for the ideas of the soul
That I might do what you do
And become a bit of what you are
The sacred in the mundane

And a mystic in the invisible
Sifting language for a golden moment.

AEJ Koh 1

AEJ Koh 1

I heard you were a word mother
I read your lines, pretty beyond
The beautiful world I know
If the present is the revenge of the past

I think karma loves you
As I turn inside-out every word
The internet says belongs to
Your strange initials, I feel as if

If I were to trace you
In symbols, I might divine
A bit of your experience
I’m so easily haunted by your

Privilege, your coffee-nails of grit
Just when you think nobody notices
I cannot imagine a gamification of poems
The way you do, carried up levels?

That’s insanely sweet, and quite orderly
Compared to the way I scribble
Six past midnight, miles from you
Do you think we are maybe

A little bit autistic to love something so much?
A blister on the face of art?
A poem lost in a dialect of ancestors?
I have no friends with prospects of a real career

Does that make me an eccentric
When I put my hand out to the world
I’m not begging, I’m just checking
For a pulse, I won’t forget how unforgettable

You are, I’ve stumbled upon you
A few times, like a magnetic map
Back to our favourite lines
I can find profundity

And even the most oblique of conversations
How can I be seduced by mere words?