Every day I ride my bike, I like.
Visa hot in hand… ‘merica here we come!
But when will we land? And what will become
of the friends who made this place home, those expat alum…
How do you say goodbye to 20-year associates, to the long friends, the Seoul mates that made this place almost home?
What happens to a nation ignored?
Will it wither on in an untoward state
or rise up pen and sword with hate?
How many New Year’s resolutions have been left by the wayside, homeless and unwanted, begging by the roadside only a few weeks, days or even moments into the New Year? Why trudge haphazard into an uncertain transformation, only to slip back into bad-habitsville. Leave the resolutions to those with real resolve!
I love you in every long lonely walk home
from the fall of autumn
to the deep quiet of winter
through the early rising spring
to the lazy daze of summer.
If I had chased you down
a leafy lane of fall…
I listen to the ballads of my blue mind
and think of you.
You are in the taste of blotted lipstick
on the lip crests of my morning.
You are the swift stroke and new razor
greeting the rough-hewn stubble of my face.
You are every drop of wet
in the shower of memory.
Your eyes are moors.
Your hands are angels.
Your hair is Autumn.
Your lips are frosting.