Yosu
What dwell amid the rows of cement collars,
astride the mounted hills stepped with sustaining grass
and winding from the Seoul of late descent
came by morning of early trained mass?…
By some magic of music
There’s some magic of music,
the way a tune can move,
your mood altered in an instant;
an express line to the soul of expression
infecting with inspiration,
subliminal and subconscious.
A Missionary Man’s Monarchy
An Ode to Allen
Steeped in 500 years of Confucianism
The heritage of a dynastic Yi hermitage
Indoctrinated its population in the prism
Of expanding stasis, getting on in age.
Here begins the story of Horace
As he happed on the hapless case
Of Kojong and his hermit race
In a time of encroaching barbarians and Yi’s passing grace…
Incline
I remember following up the long incline
Of cement stairs
Along the steep sided alleyway
To the peak of our expression
And the open expanse…
Goodbye Lass
The falling notes rose,
My spirits,
A jig of Irish tunes,
Danced
And I walked on down the road.
Ireland
A quiet hold in her notes
Rises smoke soft
From earthen fairy mounds
And bogs and rivers
To raise our spirit…
Sirens of Laughter
What of the original eleven?
Ten riders lost in the swells of intemperate sea
Only one remains:
I stand
cliff edged.
A boatsman edging close,
to the cleaving line…
satisfaction
Will we ever find satisfaction
with our situation,
with ourselves, with others?
Send me a scrap, a slice, a morsel,
a moment of peace, a piece of pleasure,
a hint of happiness,
even fleeting fragments of fulfillment,
send me a smattering of satisfaction.
The Stones’ sad assertion…
shouting submission to darkness
be damned! I can.
I can.
