Intricacy of a simple thing.

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 carpels
and stigma
burst
out.

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.

You never
know.

Try the pondering mind.

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.

Tripping over a frozen day.

Sometimes when you take the road leading south
even in March
there is snow instead of yellow cornelia blossoms.

But you just have to zip up your spring jacket
and wrap your scarf around your neck for a second time.

Maybe tomorrow
there again
will be
sun.

Probably it is all in your head.

The sun was out in the midmorning and I hope he found something interesting (probably a bug.)

I hope he will have someone to wrap his arms around when his heart gets heavy.

I hope everybody found their shoes again (or at least came to a mutual exchange)

and that he had a great day after all.

I hope they really liked the sound of flags in March wind

and that their next lives are going to be so much better.

I hope that he had all the right tools to fix what needed mending.

I hope we remember love.
I really do.

 

 

Let me be your mirror, soul.

On a mild mid-march day’s afternoon,
(the blossom was yet to come)
many a selfie was taken.

a teddy was carried through the Namdaeum market
(and I think it was half his owner’s size)

and someone finished his lunch and was pretty satisfied with it.

While some shared with pigeons
(colour-coordinated)

others guarded fluffy pyjamas. I might have gotten one (or not, would you?)

In the evening
the weather cooled down
and I found beasts (plastic paked)

who would have known.

 

 

Buried Bliss and Comfort’s Fast Decay

Winter came late this time and

as I strolled Warsaw’s cobblestone pavement

as my hands were pressed against the insides of my pockets

as I found snowflakes in the corners of my squinted eyes, making my sight blurry,

I met a lady outside of her shop.

She stood there and had a smoke, a cold one. A smoke with wind in the back of her neck and around her ankles.

„Warsaw is rather cruel to you“, I said, but I guess she didn’t hear me.

Maybe I didn’t say it out loud.

Hush me silent, father frost.

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.

The Inevitable Desperation of a December Fly.

Cold leaked through the window frame and there

not moving not turning its head not rubbing its legs

sat a fly.

I bend to examine it closely.

Its wings were a perfectly symmetrical veil.

As I took a picture, I realised that it was soon to die and felt blasphemous.

 

I feel lonely for you

You know, it will get darker from now on.

But as long as it lasts, we could treasure the golden days of autumn equinox.

We could stay outside in the leaves and in the long shadows and wait for our fingers to get clammy. We could listen to the gravel. We could –

 

 

Time puts a cigarette in our mouths

It once has been a cinema and now it smells of pigeon muck and bent metal.

When I was young, we went to the place and bought popcorn where now all kind of waste is dropped.

Inside, derelictions dwells on broken glass.

Outside, rose hips take back the staircases.