Indeed well, Here I decode the Koh effect


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The Koh-Catharsis Diaries

There is a secret Haiku between you and I
Though I suspect only I can hear it
The words are dim and bright

You who colonized the American dream
For East-Asian writers forever
It wasn’t a banner you took on lightly

And I admired you for it:
In part because I myself
Fantasized about being Asian

Had strange anti-white guilt
Embarrassed by my British Descent
They say white people only came

Into existence eight thousand years ago
With a healthly dose of Neanderthal genes
And if, as artists we ever felt like outcasts

These invisible connections were cathartic
Lonely and abandoned, I relished
The purity of self-sacrifice
As if the poverty helped me focus
On what I wanted to do
On what the divine universe asked of me
I complied, was obedient, took it to heart

There is a haiku between you and I
It’s a wet barren emblem
Of creative arousal, like
Bards of magical realism

I endured in poems only to reach you
I became both testimonial and deviation
The inner critic in me was silent
When you were in my inner room

I never knew how to communicate
My voices was uncategorized in
The anthologies and manuscripts
I was the sun on a blanket of a lost poem

With no fine description or synopsis
Though my narrative was a dream to you
A longer poem crafted for short movements
Of the soul, like a shared hologram

That replaced skype, was more intimate
Than periscope, more alive than self-publishing
On that wick I lit the flame of your split shadows
Black honey, black light, anti-matter gravity

The eminent imminent intuition of
Of sacred intent to another person’s journey
My eyes discovered your language
A cage of sounds, an open morning

Your foliage like the blouse of the moon
Your hips shuddering in your privacy
The sifted light of your ferocious attack on art
Your daring red, your what-if-mother approach

Your shriek in the lips of Virgo
I was a scavenger of the heroes you created
And I swam in your gardens careless
Of the wholly immaterial nature of the encounter.

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About Solitude and Infatuation


Screen Shot 04-05-15 at 08.20 PMScreen Shot 04-05-15 at 08.26 PMBeing Alone Does Not Make You Crazy, It Reminds You Of Who You Are. - E.J. Koh

Alone Quotes | Forward this Picture

Being alone with Eun Ji

I’m five down dead in red

I bend where the sun hits

I shift to gain access

To the bursting shadows

Voyeuristic to your ghosts

The rains is like a lullaby

But the blood of a writer

Eun Ji, I’m a secret manifestation

 

Of your psyche, both silent

And wounded in existence

Both everything and nothing

For your eternity of being

And there is a vague red trail

Leading from my life to yours

It’s like an avalanche of nostalgia

When you shudder I feel light-headed

In this way, I have swallowed

The memories of someone else

And I would gladly color your body

But after all those dreams of dying

We learned to love dying

In each other’s arms, disguised

Like lonely vehicles to murder the world

Our solitude didn’t make us crazy

It just reminded us who we were

And for that I am lonely:

Loneliness is not being alone

It’s to love another’s soul

To no avail, but I have time

Time to tangle myself into

The spiral veins of your inner voice

Maybe the only voice

That can reach me now

And I write about you because

I’m scared of writing, however

I’m more scared of not writing

Eun ji, in my mind you have become a poem

But I cannot stop writing or speaking

Because you amplify the my inner Asian-ness

And the zero-point of all poetic intent in me.