That You Belong to Poetry #amwriting #erotic #AppreciateAnAuthor

“You know an author is good, when they can afford you inspiration on all levels.”
– Wuji on the work of, the illustrious, EJ Koh

That You Belong to Poetry

I want to map nudity as a concept
To dare to be vulnerable
To fumble telepathically

Against each other
Not forced but slow
Warm like uncovering morsels
Of electricity and find the right skin

The soul’s skin is kissable
Enormously divine and watery
For this is our play and our poetry
In bodies and minds like blankets
I search for her warmth in her pain

The taunt Asian skin that ages so slowly
I want to slip beneath her lines
Go where I’m not strictly allowed

Since my finger search would
Lead me only to a kind of shelter
Where my hand is caught in an ocean
Where as wild beats we’d play hide and seek

Until the ends of time in new bodies
Then, I will, I promise I will transform
Every part of you into poetry
And you will die to your solitude without hesitation
Knowing on gut instinct the variety

Of pleasure I will be able to afford you
And before I hunt for you I will wait
For the briefest of time, for the

World to stop, so that our shared aroma
Might hang in the air for the cosmos to witness
Before the love-chase finds me
Studying you like a chimera

Or a golden suitcase that floats
From city to city, novel to novel.

In no shape for Time

Outside of Time

I am always and ever
At any given point
Aware of the space between us
How we all follow some destined path
Gold, silver, green, purple
Fates, I call them ribbons

The signatures of light
We leave in the hearts of other people
When we are gone
They can approximate
How close we came to them
Inwardly, all symbolic

ii

With bodies as translucent
As the future will afford us
I am always and ever
Taking off clothes, memories
Assumptions, judgement
To reach the stillness between us

Where I wait for you dear
If you are lonely
You can always find me
Anticipating mind-touch
And the rain together like
The fragrance of forgiveness.

Free association in Red-ness

From the sneak peak to the Novel, Red, by EJ Koh.

 

Koh-Catharsis Diaries 1

A brief study in the

Implications of literary angels:

Pause and follow the direction

Of the innocence and passion

Of the birth of language

Of the pangs of poetics

It’s our sanctuary of hope

It may be disobedient to become a writer

But if it’s our calling, is it not

Our moral obligation to oblige

The inner universe in us bursting forth?

It’s where the hero’s journey

Became the writer’s journey

Alchemy of lonely years

Lonely years that were not truly lonely

Like an orphan from another country

We left behind traditions to pursue

With pause, deliberation, a lifetime of editing

Translating, giving speeches, marketing

With only the barest silver light

Of recognition from the sun outside

Like the attempt to piece together

All the things that occurred in our psyche

Without success, we were doomed

Trapped in the fiction of our own myth

Like a journal of Sera and Azel

Unending, serpent biting its own tail

Experience the Guru, Sera

Youth the dreamer, Azel

The Koh effect implied objectivity

A truth that was not Justice when there was none

A magical realism of our bone-split

Rain covered tears, the vision that

Encapsulated our prison room

Untold labor of conscious hallucination

The way eyes flit away in internal direction

When the shaman wakes the brain

These I have seen, these have I witnessed

A trinity of Spirit, Earth and Wake

And the lost sense of no-time in the dream

The dream that was our life

The surrealism of the spirit that

Liked to study our human past

Dissect it for significant moments

Summarize the way memory plotted inaccurately

Like tear-stains on letters from mother

It was a lottery of bright moments, pale

In the forgiveness that altered them

The primitive familiarity of the search

For belonging, in an anonymous modern world

Full of condemnation, virile self-criticism

Waging wars of inner doubt

Mover, spirits, humans, animals, planets

The blatent hierarchy fostered responsibility

Consciousness required us to rebel

Gendered pods took on ethnic-matter

Race became part of snickering identity

Identity became a frame of reference

One glowing figure in our own night

Author.

– EJ Koh