Fading Away Little by Little


A Quiet Distance

There are quiet features
In my letter box
Journals that went unopened
Hearts that went ungiven-away

It was celibacy all around
In my soul, that waited for years
To write the perfect sentence
The ideal stanza


The deviation from without
To satisfy the necessity of within
Talking in bed to the poems
That defined a lifetime

There is emblematic unrest
Vulnerable to horizons
Autobiographies burned
In isolation, nothing shows why


In all this distance reduced at night
We prune our youth with gratitude
For how things turned out
Eventually, the night takes us

Outside of symbol into ambiguity
A distance between
Ourselves and the racing stars.

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Translations before Novels

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.