When to Scotland, I came to admire the very beauty of tartan against a grey Scottish sky.
Smell my dried seaweed, the water was calling. Smell my salty breath, the wind chimed in.
I wandered off to see the sheep. Blackface sang a song about obstinacy and dandelion.
Then the land ended and sky became sea.
I hid away from the sun. The leaves scraped like abrasive tongues over my skin.
In the end, everything pointed me to the water. Away, away we go.
As I walked through a friend’s garden,
I noticed autumn’s vanguard.
Funny, I thought.
There doesn’t seem to be anything more beautiful –
than September Rain on a goldfish pond
than rain coated tomatoes (that won’t get red any more)
than a tiny pool bordered by hibiscus petals
than sturdy blossoms awaiting the end of the year.
Have you ever seen the peony’s bud?
It’s not much more than a tight oval.
But when the bud opens up,
the greatest petals
And while I inhaled the sweet rose’s scent
I couldn’t help but think that it’s a bit like the mind.
There is so much that the cranium
hides from the world.
I would spend 3000 ₩ on a pack of rice chips to feed the seagulls
and I would have their screams accompany me down the beach.
I would walk across to have a look on the other side (and maybe I would stay there.)
I would wait for the sun to set just to see the magnolia at nightfall (between burial mounds, it is death and short term life, as always.)
And I would be a Koi in cold pond water.
Did you hear the knocking in your ears
as you passed the frozen potholes
it must have been
your own heartbeat
for there was nobody else in this world.