Notes from Seoul


Mona is warm
and my lap is warm
when we will I hear this purr?

Iris chases a fake mouse
and climbs the walls

sharp branches scrape
the roof

silent Boxing Day
without snow


I am flying to Korea. I am on a plane flying to Korea. I want to hold it between my hands. My soul houses a soul. The plane houses a few hundred people. Down below the world resembles an ice rink.

I am on a long flight from Chicago to Seoul. Altitude 38400 feet. Speed 466 MPH. Only five hours in the air and it feels like days. This is the fastest manner.

Traditional Korean meal on the plane washed down with Hite. I haven’t slept. Left at 8 am on December 31st. Now it is Jan 1st 10:17 AM. Where does time go? Time is first to go.

I think in the distance
It was raining and I don’t have an umbrella
Enough fish oil repels
The person on the left is eating raw cow tongue
The sexiest food creates an awkward movement

To get it right with standard meteorologists
the usual cart of drinks and the faces of people
returning from the toilet or waking after never really sleeping

What are you thinking? What do you think? What thinks?

I am not innocent but I am
not a spectator
This is a very expensive earnestness
And I am waiting for events to turn tacit
Two days in Korea and I’ve lost my validity


Setting the stage for recrowned lovers
start suffering
stop suffering

to tell something to someone MAKES difference

free up the ante. gas up. what hopes feel tenuous with a stance in silence. directions all go for a fuck. everywhere going and gone. when to stop is one last thing I neither wrote nor translated.


my first week in Korea was a whirlwind
a wet finger through the ringer
it’s nice to be foreign without looking for an emergency exit
sliding on the cold seat I can’t see straight
compositions of a dead lizard
disposition for abstract bananas
preparations for the elderly
shotguns shells on the Christmas tree
poetry block awareness
dissembling rebirth and recreation
trans port action against the odds and figuring out
four new moleskins



Equanimity. An even field. Late for work and a new table is delivered by a man who speaks no English. Last week it was lost in Seoul. Today a lost key. This is a sketchy part of Incheon. Lots of neon and one-hour motels. The mob runs this place. Cheap pictures of girls littered on the ground. Equal to what? Can I be yr baby tonight? Bent bow before a nameless face. Everybody wants to go forever or be a cracked. My lady’s body / is just own reflection /even the entry is leased/What powers this emergency? There is love on the pillow and crust in my eye.


It is raining and Incheon lights reflect off the water. This is Incheon but more specifically Jakjeon. Jakjeon is a red light district.

There are children across from the brothels who attend the school where I work.

This is not a rough area
This is a rough area
For whom is this area rough?
All my areas were rougher than this area

I am white and stand out. I am tall and stand out. I wear my white headphones.

I take the elevator down in the morning. I walk through the red light district. Neon pops. There are castles with neon hearts. Characters indicate techniques and a “rest for your penis.”

I take the elevator up to Wonderland. I walk into the lounge. I wait. I watch. I teach.