On How to do Intrinsic Literature


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Eun Ji, one day do you suppose

We will stand outside of history?

We felt like outsiders, aliens, imposters

Our dreams were for centuries, not decades

Thousands of years from now

What will attention and consciousness feel like?

Under the remains of what was once

Art, literature, writing, poetry

We made myths in history and found

More meaning in it than in what

The world could offer us, wasn’t that

The ultimate choice, the biggest abandonment

We divorced reality on our own terms

Becoming recluses, we set the world on fire

In our minds, with paper hearts we

Broke our heart on men, on trivial women

On people that didn’t know

The kind of sacrifices it takes to be an artist

They were normal, living landscapes

Of cost and benefit analysis,

Like how to acquire more financial resources

Or which significant other to mate with

For successful children and for some

Mistaken sense of what descendents and legacy mean.