This is a dry climate. Dust builds on the counters. Everyone’s older on the slush. A ghostly rat rides me. Saving face in all the rooms without keen interrests. Ten years out the machine backs down and each neuron drifts. It’s not a dream but it still drives me batty.
I wanted to travel lighter. I sold almost all my books to travel the world. If I get through this will I write poetry? What is this and what am I writing? Don’t let me be lonely.
I want to read for the first time. Without an as or an if. Put the pins back in the soap. Sometimes the music is too weak. Coming out and wanting my mind back.
This is not
the end or
it is the beginning
I am still thinking with my old mind. Where is my new mind?
Minimalism attracted me for a long time. We’ll see what happens.
One step ahead with a double-sided phrase. Trumpet call for a wedding feast. Broke into my own skin, now what? My lord’s body is too shiny. My sibs are spread across the world. A shiver or two stains my sleep. What can I say? The heater heats the Soju in my tummy. Word instate. When was my last day in America? Still too early to tell. It’s in the writing but mind the gaps. Where is my outline. An apple is still an apple even in Korea. It’s impossible to say WHAT awaits. There might be snow but it could be pollution. The dust keeps settling in my room. My head sticks to the window of ________. To whom do I dictate and why? A soft serial with tongue in mind.
MIND THE GAP
Calling Carolina from South Korea
I’m leaning too heavy
on myself and my mouth
The view is forbidden, absent, all the same
I’m happy but a little less
up on my words