Blooming into Native Serendipity


(Lost in Gaia)

gaia

I love you for not knowing me
But echoing me, like some stranger’s lost invincibility
I love you for your kindness
In the same sorrows we have all fled

Like youth’s retreating eyebrows
Like songs we used to sing
I love you for your no tomorrows
For your doomsday moods and emotive vitality

For your hairy shadows, and Costa Rican reunions
I followed how the healers move the mystics
Just today, as if it was a story I was familiar with
I love you for being in love and falling

In love with something bigger than yourself
I love you for your storytelling and your
Witnessing, the quiet birth of the apocalypse
Of every blue moment entombed in rapture and in awe

I was captivated by your Venusian fertility of art
And poetry and the musing of eternal questions
I love you for loving deeper in sweeter tones
Than I found use in doing, after doppelganger loneliness

And Aspergian humility, I played in shadows
I love you for not being there, when the divine stood on
Inside of me like a flame always glowing
I love you for your absence, for being

Especially preoccupied with your own drama
For your personal story of mirroring and copying
The feelings we all had all long, they still seemed
More blessed in your company

Somehow more vivid on your face
In your essays up the Western coast
Entwined and enshrined, I love you for the book of poems
You told the ocean you’d share with the world
I’m still waiting for my copy, by the way.

Songs of yŏryu


korean2

There was a coldness in your flesh

As if you had been jilted by an ex-husband

Betrayed and guarded like a mother

 

I knew martyrdom was like a dress

That they wore, beneath their frisky loveliness

As flowers and candles from yesterdays

 

Unperturbed by the golden thread of the future

That’s as warm and as insatiable as the youthful heart

Free and fiery and impulsive to the sudden core

 

Where time dripped and sprayed its mischief of unity

Into the pocket books of quotes and unsaid secrets

That were festive like surprises beneath our pillows

 

That made us suffer terribly from a sweet kind of insomnia

Those were the dragon moods of a hotness in the flesh

Hae.mi, felt it just like how the flowers appear on the Earth

 

Unbuttoned with a thousand colors for everyone

Generous to the pulse of life’s irregular magnitudes

That blurred one reality and the privacy of the next

 

Like a tantrum of secret need, a nest of sparks

Cluttered beneath all the hurry and all the wonder.

The simultaneous existence as grandmothers, mothers, and daughters


korean

I want to lift a woman from the sand

Where the sand was her bondage and perseverance

And I would be, as a man, bold and endearing

 

Holding her breath, she would wait for him

And I would be saving and saved, found and lost

I would bring Korean drama back to her source

For the good of the heart, thrill of the body

And lift her up to Nirvanic rays

 

And she would be bright as a Hae.mi of the ocean

Savage as a Hae.mi of the jungle gardens

Of Seoul, from whence she came

 

Calm with the footprints on the sand of the great loves

Where battle dreampt a human dream

Of love and fire, and sea-salt wounds

Imprinted on a heart, as fine and as tender

As the courage of dreams, and running wind.

Flowers that Hurt


flowers-that-hurt

Hae.mi, the tongue of my poetry is unraveled

I have no shame, only bliss, my petty traditions

Are meaning less now, I to the drug of the past am unhooked

 

In the skin of tomorrow’s reckless abandon

I flee, like a moth to the stars and impressive light

The woman’s wisdom that my manhood aches

 

My lucid dreaming has pillows full of your wisdom

In my heart’s burning thirst

I’ve been secretly writing your name: Hae.mi

 

With drops of what a princess is supposed to be like

Extravagantly mysterious and obscure, partially unattainable

The tongue of my muse is blushing, bright red

 

As wet behind my ears, I feel my pulse gallop

At the speed of your attentiveness and trembling.

 

In Process of the Seasons of You in Me


 

Screen Shot 02-07-16 at 09.01 PM

 

 

Love, there was never an audience

Only the taste of a premonition

That died so easily in your hands

And my life was an illusion

 

But my dreams had a vividness to me

You were never old to me, I never tired of your

Native voice, the April lift of your soul

The green Junes burning in your hair

 

The majesty of your words

That my songs could never dear

Summers died at your feet

Love, I roamed beaches and years

 

Trailing the path you had fled

And white as the sun, I never tasted you

Only an invisible promise of hope

That bled in me when I thought of you.

Like Half the Heaven of the Blest


Screen Shot 06-25-15 at 10.20 PM

How lovely is the sacred Memory
I’m grateful you returned to me
With skin from another life, the Muse revives
And we languish with new spark and Song Divine
For Notes like transitory flowers
The tributes won’t do, experience is more necessary!

My soul extended to fountains of purer water
And in every tender strain I am to fancy nurst
Fortune elevated in a personal moment
Who shy as generous harmony must not admit
To the low ebb of sensual sense
For noblest excellence worth a scanty gratitude

And a hundred moans for sweet fruitful love
How lovely is the return of the flesh
When the soul is so renown and shaded in light
This pleasing delusion, this witchery divine
And brightest appetite of unconquerable virtue
Where nature in our heart can so persuade

That the bounds do not justify this desire
Chearer of youthful age, the mounds glow gold.

untitled but for poetry’s page


Screen Shot 05-11-15 at 12.16 AM

Poetry is its own best audience

Poetry is a daily practice
I don’t consider it particularly artistic
More like the spirit of language
Doing therapy on my brain

This is your brain on poetry
So I’ve transformed down the years
A few thousand poems are like
Little green eyes smiling

Like leaves bursting with wind on a tree
Next to your room, close to your soul
Like the ocean in the background
Holding all myth and legend

And the whispers of love that can
Absorb an entire lifetime
Like the memory of romance when
All romance has died long ago

Poetry is a meditation
Of how indebted we are to nature
And how gratitude never runs out
It only returns again and again

Like clouds of delight
And stars at twilight
Money is a kind of poetry
In the extent it lets you live and do anything

Through for inner freedom
Poetry > money in its simplicity
You can take it anywhere
And it will be guaranteed to still possess you

Embrace you, ravish you with
The adventure of time and delight.

Spring Yellow Fever


Screen Shot 05-08-15 at 09.28 PM

Spring Yellow Fever

Your jet black hair is like youth
To me, like the kind of face that
Ages gracefully, with slanted love
I am a hospitality of surprise to your
Foreign accent, Mandarin tipped muse

I go clean through your skin like
Diamond hunting on the edge
Silence is a dress we wear
Clothing I take off of you, we are

Figurate and literally naked to each other
Like the time it took to let you into my heart
So we go to bed lightly with
The world on our side and a lover
With the most spiritual eyes

And what we do to each other there
Is not important, all moments pass
Like an Orgasm from God or
The little beginings of metamporphosis

We all come into this world naked
And sometimes, the body of our kiss
Grows cold and wise, like aging together.

Silver T e a r in your P a l m


Screen Shot 05-01-15 at 08.04 PMScreen Shot 05-01-15 at 08.04 PM 001

Silver T e a r in your P a l m

I can’t remember the tale
Of your sacrifice, I’ve seen
So much tragedy in history
That before the story ended

I turned away, aware, preferring
The fables we tell ourselves
Stories recited by grandparents
Felt more believable

I had held your palm
With splinters of revolutions
Most did not do anything
To bring the times forward

I recalled how you let your hands be held
As if our little measures of
Tenderness, could save us
But we knew what was coming

It’s hard to remember the future
But we could feel it in our bones
It was extinction or change
And there were moments like that

In evolution, they would arrive
At our door pivotal and in those
Circumstances, our destinies seem
Made and sung by other actors

Our Wills bend to the times
The predictive analytics told us
All we needed to know, those
Algorithms didn’t fail, had no error

So I did what a young person does
When he’s given an opportunity
To show how mature he has become
I kissed you, as if there was no tomorrow.

Unread Lyric on a Grave #poetry #wordsmatter


Screen Shot 04-18-15 at 09.04 AM 002Screen Shot 04-18-15 at 09.26 AM

Unread Lyric on a Grave

If there is a melody of all
Our lives came to
Beneath the gulls of the years

I would know if, through burning love
An echo of you remains
In the dark house abandoned
In the silent grave unvisited
In poetry books burned

I would steal a bit of love left over
From so many lives, from so many nights
Sweeter than the sun raw on my ankles

Cupping the sleepless dawn of my dreams
That we might touch each other again
With our enigmatic bruises of fate
I had long ago chosen to wait
And the seer of years passed by

And brighter than noon, I kept
Secret notes of you beneath my pillow
From a sovereign heart I know not why.

The Harp Weaver #NaPoWriMo #NationalPoetryMonth


Screen Shot 04-16-15 at 11.00 PM 001Screen Shot 04-16-15 at 11.00 PM

The Harp Weaver

I will be gladder
Than the gladdest thing
Because you are here

I will touch a hundred flowers
Just to feel your grace
With quiet eyes and more than a little wonder

I will wait
An entire lifetime if need be
I will see the grass rise

The greenest of new spring
And the Moon floor
The Ocean up to the tides

I will learn to love blackness
As if the unpatented light
Will not spread without horizons

Into morning, I will be still gladder
The day you arrive in my life.

Celebrity of You


Screen Shot 04-12-15 at 06.48 PM 001Screen Shot 04-12-15 at 06.48 PM


Celebrity of You

Parting is all we know of each other
And God is all we know of heaven
So why does it feel

I walk to heaven to meet you?
They say that God is everywhere
But I felt him most
In your presence

What does it mean,
So tell me the truth and tell it with a slant
I want a love that is anterior to life
Dying a wild night
In the arms of an eternal youth.

Smile to make me believe


Smile to make me believe

When you smile
lift me from breathing
conquer joy so I can submit
to the eternal feminine and the grace
I am tired of man’s world
of war, politics, corruption, smiting enemies
so dear make me dizzy
with thoughts of intimacy, children, the home
arch me with your gold decoration
that I might feel young again
lead me to small feminine laughter
where you cradle the shining sun
and my life becomes the blue body
of freedom, the skies and the ocean
when you smile
realize, please, the influence
of how the spring submits to rain
of how my skin was made to
let your heart in, like laughter
and the foreign verse of beauty
I being a man, am so alien to it
When you smile
cry for me with the inexplicable
for I have no tears left
numbed by cruelty and maybe defeat
smile for me, like unconquerable music.

Ballad for Custodianship


39

The sun is tangled
In the branches
Prayers for sunset
Between sky and water

There is only dark
Night will find the way
To daily commit suicide
So morning can heal

Glistening in her wounds
Those red scars
On the horizon know
How to set out for home

They lead us back
To the place where
Tomorrow grows infinite
And the mountains lurk

And the oceans blow
And our cities merge
Like an endless horizon
Until the great eye

Of all-seeing intelligence
Wakes, it’s the singularity
Where flowers can drip
And not fear a man will

Rip them out of their stem
Artificial intelligence
Won’t betray life at every
Step, won’t kill without need.

The moment scatters itself into a poem


43
The moment scatters itself into a poem

I am full, of unwritten poetry
My life is an experience
Of the lady of secrets
And the labor of art

I craft, I write, I want
To go to the beyond
Through the gift of the gateway

Of intuitive being
Until I become a poem
I am pregnant, with this
Reflection of resurrection
Words dance in my brain

In somersaults and fountains
Of the purest aroma
A vistas of the clearest day

My pen is not a pen, my page
Is not a page, I write for the future
To the future, arriving forever
Through the lens of beauty
I transcend and I perceive

Through until the lady of secrets
Down into the sea of mysteries.

DELIGHT OF THE MIDNIGHT ROSE, 午夜玫瑰的喜悅


92

Soft desires I can trace
Back to the lap of Roses who
Sing away with secret smiles
For whispers of their softest limbs
Whimpering for petals that say

Touch my cheek, pet my soul
When thy little heart doth wake
For this light shall break
On this womb, this womb that makes
A Rose as sweet, Red like the Lioness

Red like the sacred flesh
Soft desires fragrant like the whole
The Rose that sets love on fire
From a hungry gorge, the pit, the abyss
Terror of the divine form embraced

The Rose’s thorns, furnace sealed
A hungry Rose that lingers secretly
For the touch of a woman’s hand
The rose is not fair without the beloved’s face
Lips that like to sugar, grace like a flower
That sways, in the breeze, for mirth and feast.

Sad Eyed Lyricist


I’ve spotted it with tears (I pronounced to all my living verse) Your infant faces are proof of it ! The crumbled years, the kissed cheeks White as snow, red as apples The harmonics of a life enriched By syllables … Continue reading

The Female One Who Put Things in Order


Your body is as firm as bread Edible since you came out of The oven of life, to ovulate Four hundred times, scant opportunity To be a mother, I remind you The gravity of your attractiveness Is the taste of … Continue reading

With the ease of angels


6

I don’t like weddings – they remind me often
Of divorces, debts, bad resolves
I ache for the presence
Of flowers at the diner tables

When love’s dinner calls
With wine and roses, simple charm
Which was my solace as a child
I stayed with Bach’s ever-living hum

I don’t like romance – it reminds me often
Of dreamers, youth, bad choices
Though I still ache for the touch
Of eyes in the sleep quarters

When sleep comes, who shall I sip
As I wrung my hands to dream
Of reckless light veils, and the
Ease of angels in the flesh.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/flowers-in-my-head-401750232