The Year in Music (+a few lines)

Winter

I sent you both
a text.
Your responses were
so very different.
I'll send you both
away.
My childhood innocence
on your shoulders.

I wrap my arms around
myself
in the cold night
you are beautiful
yet I know
I could not love you.

I wake up in the night
--it was a dream
of your body next to mine
your graceful limbs seem
to leave a dent in the sheets
You're a flickering flame
small and hopeful
in the darkness,
You're a long, black shadow,
I see you in the opaque yellow warmth
of milky glass lamps
surrounding
candlelight, oh, now have I
begun to long for you?

I returned to Ben Howard
As I did to a stranger
Now I send flares
At sunrise my messages
Cross the Pacific
But Japan, my old lover, is not your home
And coffee shop dates
And drunken eyes
See our truth
More vividly than I.

If you'd been at that party
all the nights I'd
wanted to kiss the death out of you
might've become reality.

I picked the lyric version.
my mom won't enjoy
the pole dancers.
I didn't either but
this music is good for applying eyeliner
before drinking too much,
feeling a strangers fingers
rest on your pelvis and
pushing him off, coming home,
throwing up.

Spring

you in powder blue
the world at your fingertips
the sky so open and grand
the sunset so warm
spring at hand
we would see the world together
and cross this continent
like stars, the sky.

"...even if I disappear from this room
no one will know that I have existed.
I never thought you were such a traitor,"
And so in March
I thought of my old love again.

Charlottesville is more beautiful in spring
than all the castles of all the kings
than riches of men or jewels of foreigners
your eyes and Charlottesville on a spring night
the gentle glances I gave you
the way I touched your arm
you whispered in my ear
you called out to me
That city and I answered, with that city
with you
I fell
into a deep, fevered kind of love.

I spent a warm night by the music building
just sitting on a step
the bluegrass band I didn't know till now
calling back to my deepest heart
--Appalachia, my home,
a distant memory,
one woman sang this song
fingers flying across the mandolin
maybe I shouldn't go away
perhaps
I should just stay and stay
till I die.

Compelled to turn
our eyes met
the boy I had been
so caught up in
was smiling at me
as if I, too, was once his dream
standing on the stairway
among the cream acanthus designs
among the paintings
and the velvet carpets
I said nothing
but I'll never forget
the way he looked that night.

It was supposed to be cold that night
but some friends and I
we burnt up the dance floor
until it felt
like the middle of summer
to swingy covers
of pop songs
we spun in fevered circles
feet pounding the ground
like frantic children.

I let go of my muse
when he let go of me
and I lost
my class ring
no fault of mine
blame the mailman.


Summer 

i thought it was a party anthem
but my guiding star, my lifeline,
my middle-aged mother
heard the radio edit
and thought of it as a love song,
and so as the waves crashed
against the shore of the outer banks
i closed my eyes in the dark
let the synth hit me hard
and felt those sparks again.

I called your pretty lips
sacred, but in the deep night
drunk and high,
your tongue became a sword
slashing the skin
of my vaporous body, you
were fighting your demons, and I
was your virgin Mary
crushed by your overwhelming
desire to lose yourself,
you should
put on more clothes,
I'll hang up the phone,
and
at 4am my brother says,
"...bother with someone who loves
you more..."

we barely speak
just an old paper card
and some gifts
in our defense,
but you never know
until you try,
right?

Sometimes it is our souls which belong
in a certain place, finding a way
to thrive in broken bodies,
and your soul found a home
in your body which
is now in the Orient, I guess I
will never measure up to it
a body in the right place
a soul with the right fit,
but I'll try.

Regardless of what he's heard
an American girl
doesn't always give up
when the going gets rough,
he better toughen up
and get ready for true love.

The streets spiral
out of their ancient confines
Joseon street designs
are the maze for my mind
to "figure it all out".

Autumn

On rainy nights
a good track
for romantic thoughts.

Brilliant sun and blue skies
the wind in my hair as we sail
down the coastal roads
the ocean air and smell of flowers
Jeju's warmest blessing
my soul growing stronger.

satisfaction
turning your back
on the tainted relationships
haunting you.

Super in love
under the moon,
spinning like a child,
let me show you the world
I'll make you smile,
for the first time in a while,
electric storms on a
warm summer night,
be mine.

the sea
black and endless
and so deep
greets me
with emptiness
each morning.

Winter

After giving all
to mere man,
the votes roll in-and wait-
we need a spot of sunlight
and the touch of God
to mend our pain.

swingin' through the empty classroom
I'm dancing alone
glue on my fingers
glitter in my hair,
a twelve-year-old Korean boy with
brown puppy eyes
requested "Original Jingle Bell Rock"
a shot of holiday spirit
for my lifeless body.

Street serenades

finally I found you

someone to sing this song to

who won't try

to shut me up posthaste. 

It was Christmas Eve.

I told you of my grandfather
his deep bass voice
and the Little Drummer Boy,
the song he'd sing to me
which I recall to this day
made me feel sad tonight

But while I was lost
in sorrow far away,
you reached for me
holding my hand in yours,
and though you spoke,
my dearest, I heard no words.

Teen Love Nostalgia

when I met you I was looking
for converse wearing simplicity
wrapped in t-shirts and
worn out jeans,
burning seventeen,
you'd be my right hand man,
fighting poetic battles
with me, fear and discovery,
my world ever-expanding
into the unknown space
of human existence, and
you'd be my peter pan
prince charming
robin hood and dark lord,
no one
knows how to stargaze
like me, we kick-started
the club of intergalactic dreamers
running off vodka and music
donations, you could
come with me to the moon,
play dress-up
suits and ties and talk
when I'm all grown-up
"I wanna be like you"
cold and bitter
broken inside from
the pains of my teen belief,
blinded by my love
all that time spent on the run,
what to do,
soon
I'll turn twenty-one.

White Hair

I find one, small white hair
in my winter jacket

I am reminded of the big dog,
who used to sit by the door

She was so smelly and ugly,
and very expensive

Then last year she died,
and I cried

For what reason I know not
except for her presence

Which would forever disappear
from the yard and our door

She'd sit and sit for hours just
watching nothing

Sleeping in the sun, and sometimes
it was endearing, her consistency

Her nightly summer barking,
her frozen dish in winter

Perhaps, the hair is not hers
but somehow, I wish it were.

Empty Seaside School

all is quiet
in the seaside school,
the halls are devoid
of laughing, screaming
children, instead
nothing but the waves
out on the gray, empty sea
and the rain, trickling
down the gutter
greet me,
all at once, the howling
lonely wind
comes off the waters,
and wraps its arms
around my soul,
a chill shiver
drips down
my spine,  I am reminded
of the sailors
lost in the night,
taken alive by the dark waters,
and that mournful
sound, drowning out
their last cries.

Three Times

in the blazing light of dawn
you told me that I caused
all of your suffering,
you too, had once loved me
and shut away your heart,
in the burning fierceness
of your anger
you kissed me, three times
as if to mock me,
in your spring colors, your
delicate suit, your wrists wrapped
in white cuffs,
the golden sunlight crowned
your black hair,
but your lips were thin and trembling,
cold and afraid,
though once I did love you,
you loved me too,
and after a long time passed,
we reached our parting.

Rest

his warm breath
on my neck,
humming and sighing,
is the sound of his life
coming in, going out,
as he slept I pressed
my lips to his forehead,
his skin as skin should be
slight smell of oils and sunscreen,
his eyes shut gently,
their lashes the most delicate
feature of his face,
peaceful and serene
in the dimness,
when he turned his head
and the rhythm of his chest
became fainter,
I wrapped my arm tightly
around him
to detect each heartbeat,
to still my fluttering anxiety,
to know the sound
of his life,
coming in, going out.

Unexpected Replies, A Rainy Night in Jeju City

Alone I ate my supper,
then went walking downtown
in the darkness,
I passed by Baghdad,
strange name
for an Indian restaurant,
across the street
is a little bar, and outside
sat neighborhood ahjusshis
and uni students,
I can't say where
one set of shoulders
ended and the other began,
a bunch of men
all in a line of little stools
among fairy lights and lanterns
pink, blue, yellow,
between them I see
the server standing, his features
unmistakable in the crowd---
long nose, deep eyes,
he was working
at Baghdad last time,
and a tall, skinny child,
maybe eight or nine
rubs his eyes and looks
up at the foreign man,
notes of broken Korean
the kind spoken to children
float through the
puddled street, and the child
with perfect vowels and consonants, replies
"Appa," and I pause,
his dark skin and round eyes
light brown hair
take on a new meaning,
he follows his father
across the street, into the restaurant
where just two weeks ago
the smell of spices
and colorful tapestries
transported us to another world---
but isn't this the one
we actually live in,
changing and
bringing unexpected replies
to our many questions,
my soul suddenly becomes
still in the night,
and I pass on.

A Mere Breeze

some days I think I could
go drifting off in a haze,
if I dissolve into the air,
none of my thoughts will materialize
I desperately desire to
remain as strong as I have been
and stay as long as I can,
but so many strong ones
have come before me
and found themselves broken,
they weren't meant
to be part of this place
they had to be sent away
maybe
I should instead become a mist,
a fine rain, or a fog,
maybe I should be a dream,
or a cloud, or a moonbeam,
and not care at all
where I go or what I see,
ignore the patronizing stares
of the people, for the trees
and the sky, the ground
and my own eyes
they all see me
as if I have become
a mere breeze.

Standards

Yes, I told you many things
which I cannot find in you
but little do you know how much
I have actually thought of you
when I was looking
for one to fill your place,
and if I could go back
I would finish my statement;
though there is much you lack
you are as close
to perfection
as a human being
can be
to me.

I Buried my Heart

In this moment
Of remembering you
I was going to protect you
I was going to become so strong
for you,
All night
I cried
at the thanks I received
for my words,
and the inevitable memory
of my care for you, but
the fact that time has it's own way
we parted all the same
you have returned to the place where
I buried part of my heart,
it will never return,
sitting in the graves of historical figures
and political significance
if I could go back
to that dark night
I still
wouldn't save my heart
it deserves to rest in such a place
for its foolishness.

His Smile

That I could see this smile
of pure joy
I thank the world
I thank every green leaf
and every warm beam of sunlight,
I thank God,
I did not believe
I would ever see your smile
like this.

Lingering

This is the place where lovers
part ways,
hiding from our invasive eyes
behind stately columns,
In the sweltering heat
under the burden of
their distance, his head is
tilted low toward her,
He speaks softly,
but his face twists with emotion,
pain sears his lips
like a brand, he has become
the slave of his love
and her sweet eyes,
Her rosebud mouth leans in
to kiss
his pain, and her words
like cool water soothing
a dry mouth,
or an open wound, he held her,
And as we depart I spy her
From our train,
I could never mistake
that pathetic longing
Lingering on the platform
as she bids her lover goodbye
My heart wells up with tears,
I could cry.

Dongjak

Seoul nights in August
are unbearably warm,
the sweat seeped from your
skin and onto mine and
the saltiness of our mutual
dislike for large crowds
was amplified by your footsteps
in worn out Converse,
somehow-
it's a miracle-
you know not to take big leaps,
"when I was young
I lived here", it seems like you
have in some way lived
everywhere,
but still I envision
your childhood spent walking
in this place
under these lights
among the tall buildings and
busy streets of this city, so new and yet
so old, quite the same thing
as our lives right now, and I
squeeze your hand a bit tighter.

Land of the Morning Calm

I do not know
Where my love began,
How it was conjured
From dirty concrete,
And crumbling rooftiles,
I have no answer
It is simply my heart's desire,
But one cannot fall desperately
For narrow streets
And idle engines,
Yet here I find joy filling me
Like too much of a good meal
In summer's ruthless heat,
Almost sickeningly
I cannot stop loving you,
Your mountains and streams
The shape of your trees,
Sound of your buses and trains
Heaving and sighing,
And the words slipping
From so many lips
A language of
Wars and division,
Struggle and occupation,
Pushing and shoving modernization,
Oh, what can I do,
Even my lover's pretty mouth
Was born of this land,
His dark eyes and subtle smiles,
Echo some anthem
Incomprehensible,
Penned by the very wind itself,
And was first sung
By your sky.

{Cannon Fire}

But when I whispered
to you at midnight,
when I watched
your precious existence fade and
all of those little things come
crashing in, the darkness
of a long winter night became
sparkling white by my
childish fascination with your
vulnerability, why
I ask---why
is this happening?
The stars I thought would align
aren't showing, and now
I'll be alone this time around,
but I guess I found my
independence
from my obsession,
and I re-emphasize:
overwhelmed by your attention
lost in the reality of your
admiration, who am I if I
have never been in love and
now am completely
taken aback
by your crashing into my
heart with your eyes
like destructive cannon fire---
what will I do?

7.25

Green and Blue

your voice will freeze me
and the sight of you in that hallway
green and blue and filled
with summer in my memory,
might be paralyzing,
and I have no illness this time
I'm simply sleep deprived,
dreaming and yet
terrified that the sound
of your soul's clanging,
singing, screaming, sorrowful
symphony
is the song I've been craving
on loop in the back of my mind
for such a long time,
oh, and only then I'll know
how much
I have missed you.

7. 25

Soul's Dwelling

Your skin is just a dirty shell,
where all the rain and
tired sighs have made their landing,
drawn their lines in your arms
and built their homes,
founded empires
of bruises and scars and little
dark splotches of
melanin deposits,

but your bones, your bones
which those spiraling cities have
tried to uncover, in abrabrasive
mining and scratching,
pulling and churning your
stomach in nervous fear
and elation, your bones
are the frontier of discovery,
the deepest darkest pit
of your soul's
dwelling.

Insomnia

those songs make me sad
and my heart feels
heavy with tears
I wish I could know
how to appease it
but I just sit here
in the darkness
as the hands of the clock
progress through
the night.

brave

during the funeral,
the city was gray and the sun
had lost all its fire and fury
and his dark silhouette progressed
across the ocean
into my mind over and over again,
like his breathing was
waves crashing on my conscience,
the wind giving chills
my fever bringing
burning hallucinations about
his departing shoulders,
to hold or send away,
should I be brave?

Addict Pt. 2

Have you looked in a mirror lately?
you've been addictive since
fresh fifteen,
cool eyed and quiet mouthed,
soaking my words in
as if you weren't
flesh and bone,
but a fog on the ocean
wrapping every thought
in chill grayness,
even my ridiculous
strawberry milk words
don't scare your soul,
yes,

you've been addictive since
this afternoon,
skin on fire eighty-five
degrees Fahrenheit,
gasping for air like
resurfacing from the depths,
like life in full color,

like the tender

rawness of hearts

with no assumptions,

and now I know

trust is just 

holding hands at

ice rinks, and brushing fingertips
on summer walks, and
Tchaikovsky with my
eyes closed,

addiction--

how much you drink

on Sunday nights 

grasping blindly,

crawling across the floor

to know who you are

to be reminded

of yourself,

what can I do anymore,

they figured out how much 

I want your heart,

but that wanting is just

a thief in the night

stealing the last light

left in your body,

yes, I admit 

I couldn't stop taking it,

I've been addicted since

the beginning of our time

which has now come, quietly,

to its own end. 

Enough

back then I was
moving too fast to think
that any guy would care
cause everyone is
understanding
and has ten years to
meet and date and meet
at university anyway,
I was moving so fast
nothing got to me
I didn't think anymore
about difficulties
or having close relationships
with strange men
who wanted
"things" (sex) from me
I just pushed them off
in clubs when
they tried to dance up on me
and that was bravery
that was making "a statement"
about my preference-ridden
individuality
that was "enough" feminism
for the night.

Metaphysical Affection

that one night
vacuuming dirty floors
the sound so loud
I couldn't hear their laughter,
tears welled up
at your pictures,
I secretly kept on my phone
(for strength, for
fighting all the hardship--
damn it)
I believed
you were no better than
all the other guys
who said terrible things and
opened my eyes---
and my eyes were so wide
I didn't know how to close them,
because of that night
it's true,
I hated you too
and sometimes I still do,
whatever, maybe
you're better than
that stupid idiot in the kitchen
swearing and listing
all the explicit things I've
never ever wanted to do,
I know it seems strange,
maybe I'm not normal,
love is pretty
it floats around freely
without commitments
and from afar
love is metaphysical
affection over telephone wires
and radio signals,
love is the words we type with
fingers which have touched
merely once,
perhaps by accident.

Taking Sides

Taking sides
is saying I either
hate you or hate myself,
based on tenderness
I've never quite believed in,
when I was a kid I
didn't know the difference,
violence does nothing
for the child locked
up inside of me,
who still believes
that if I concede, and say
"fine, I'm part of the
systematic
unbeatable
undeniable
inextinguishable
fire of
pale bodies with blue veins."
then I must lay down
shut up
and stop breathing
these bleached words, and
so what?
the fighting still won't end,
I'd rather love myself
and love you
just because loving
has nothing
to do with my position
in the fallen world
we happen to live in.

After the Rain

your eyes traced the sky, but the sky
is probably cloudy tonight,
the first message from you was
stars falling, so I went to look but
all I found was the night
"standing in the...warm summer light
I can't recall the details
yet I can still see your eyes"

and because you didn't lie
you just tried to hide,

"looking far away,
avoiding...
neither of us knowing...
answers evade me 

like my memories,"
which just keep fading, I forgot

the sound of starlight

or the night in your city,

yet here you are
purpose yet unspoken,
for reasons
I cannot imagine,
because stars are not falling
but not to dissuade you,
not to turn you away, you
are so very brave,
I've come to think that
actually, you are not starlight
or the black night at all, but
since the rain
has come and gone,
I like to believe that your spirit
is the sweet, rain-kissed air which
fills my lungs.



Quoted lines from a previous poem. 

No Explanation

20/20 color vision,
you in your blue shirt
are my only envy,
I do not care
that you go away,
or that I cannot catch you any longer
in the stairways,
or that your voice fades, all
I have to envy
is her place beside you,
but she's fantastic
she knows what she wants you say,
are you sure
you aren't searching for yourself?
but wait,
have you ever considered what you
might be, apart from the scenery,
you aren't one of those milk white pillars,
and you were never these
old dark wood floors,
in the sacred place
where we now stand,
you
the ocean, sweet ocean,
sweet depths of pain and
confusion, sweet
silence on Mondays and
chatter on Thursdays,
sweet liquor on Saturday afternoon and
your brown eyes, opening
to the blazing morning light
on Sunday,
I will offer no explanation which you do
not require, simply
comfort you, promising yes
oh yes, I'll come visit
I'll bring you chocolate,
I'll listen to your stories, endlessly.

Humid

the color of angels
on rain clouds in
late summer
is slate gray,
the grasses grow dry
with the drought,
that month of passing on
to other worlds,
the air gets filled up with
humid heat of lover's eyes
and my sweaty palms
on black leather,
milk and mountain air,
please do not be any of those things.
smell sweet as before,
let me brush the skin
of those hands again, let me replay
every moment I missed
and every kiss
I could have given.

Timetrap

"Do not let us forget
that You are our
Father in Heaven..."
in that instant,
I'm fifteen
back to sitting behind the counter with
my best friend across from me, his feet
against my legs,
baggy shorts and sports bras
-cause I told you,
remember-there was never any girl
staring into his pale eyes, we grin at this world
so silly, and adult expectations
make us gag so we just giggle,
eyes open during prayers
it's not that we don't believe,  we just
have this youth,
this monster in our souls,
"You are the Creator,
and we are Your creation,"
oh, dear God,
what happened in this short time?
the boy sits alone
cause his girl is gone,
not me,
I have my head
bowed in reluctant submission,
where are you again?
sharing names but never faces-
oh shit, sorry I got confused one time but I,
I swear I'm over that now,
cause if I'm fifteen, you'd be-hmmm,
rebelling against the world somewhere
under abbreviations which mean nothing to anyone
but me
with big torches in your eyes
like mirrors of mine
what would we feel, grinning, holding
hands on the floor, eyes open
during this prayer-but would you
fall for my immaturity or
could you love me?
what about those songs we heard last night-
will we get struck down for our
acting out, or will you
clasp me, age fifteen,
I know nothing about the world I just know
sometimes, I need your
mere humanity.

Debonair Alcohol

I pop atmosphere like pills now
curse my introversion
there are lips begging to speak yet
I have no way to open the gates
to my mind in a fog
a carbohydrate free haze of
Propel and Poe-
a strange mixture, I miss
my debonair alcohol, oh how lovely
those spring white blossoms were
before I woke up-wow,
the hangover.

The Ocean

The ocean was magnetic
that afternoon
soaking me with rain.

The ocean in a storm is almost
irresistible,
it looks like your eyes

Tossing and turning inside,
at dawn I would probably
put my hand on your shoulder

But the ocean has no limbs
it has no nerves to sense
touch or words

Yet the ocean knew my soul
and that day the sky cried
tears for me

My voice,
meant to scream into the waves
no longer knew itself

I had no anger left for those who
had hurt me
instead the ocean swallowed them

The ocean stole those bitter sounds,
and with them, myself
for a while, we were to become one,

....the ocean and I,
I would have gone away with the waves
and never returned.

Faking It

I'm looking in all the wrong places,

and if my bare feet

covered in blisters,

and my tired eyes meeting hopeless

submissiveness, under the warm touch

of bubbling red wine,

on a rainy spring evening

were not myself,

who was I? 

I did not have cute
assuming smiles for a narrow back,
and I could not provide
bright and carefree images,
for dark eyes
under yellow streetlights,
my feet were in heels, of course,
so how could I have
pretended that I didn't want more
than the fake gift of fate's appreciation?

Passive Aggressive

You're just being passive aggressive again,
all over again cause I dared you
I dare
dare to do as you told me
I see as many "others" as a rap star
has nasty words for girls
and I might just have the capacity for
the kid with pink gums and
his foul mouth written on
arms of compensation
and insecurities,
oh come now,
let's not be jealous
let's not be
let's just, just let me,
pass you a sly grin and
a slip of paper folded like
pocket triangles, did you ever
even consider why
I chased down boys in
suit coats
with the illusion of decency?
make me wash my mouth out
no wait-
wait wait wait
wait-I'll bleach my throat
can't get any whiter than this I guess
I was up til 3am with my eyes burning
on the emptiness of coloration,
and the lack of pigmentation,
go ahead, make me wash my mouth out--again--
before I throw up
cause hearing all that dirt
makes me believe
one day I'll be forced to swallow
sleeping pills
with vodka
I mute him
mute every line I can
physically, mentally understand
lips against the wall of
pain and fear
stop your miniature coup
against the freedom you gave
me, you cut this leash so I cut his,
how can I breathe in your mind,
if you store this regret inside of it?
what do you see?
when your dark eyes dilate
and greet me at dawn,
I'd truly love to know how my soul looks
in that dusty little corner of your mind
when you remember me.

"Get Grown"

I know where you were coming from
sending off the kid,
with big dreams and big eyes
running around trying to sell out of
her precious heart just for cultural lies,
a little manufactured taste of fire
with you, the psychological flight risk
of adult proportions,

Oh, I know where you were coming from
I've been sending off the kid
with sterilized ambitions in his green eyes
and it's like running around in circles all night
in my bed alone, you know,
this one has been my sane comfort
for so long, five years is clearly
more painful than a mere moment with you,

I get where you were coming from,
when you put my heart through the tragic
"you're too young get dreams get grown"
now show me how to
put this boy through a heartbreak so
he doesn't fall asleep
with tear stains on his cheekbones and
whispers of his soul in my
aching chest?

Addict

Have you looked in a mirror lately?
you've been addictive since
fresh fifteen
cool eyed and quiet mouthed
soaking my words in
as if you weren't
flesh and bone
but a fog on the ocean
wrapping every thought
in chill grayness
even my ridiculous
strawberry milk words
don't scare your soul

Wow,
have you looked in the mirror lately?
you've been addictive since
this afternoon
skin on fire, eighty-five
degrees Fahrenheit,
gasping for air like
resurfacing from the depths
better not make that
risky analogy,

But have you really not
looked in the mirror lately?
you'll be addictive forever
if I keep getting around you
doing stuff
like holding hands at
ice rinks and brushing fingertips
on summer walks and
Tchaikovsky with my
eyes closed
better not make that
risky analogy,

They'll figure out how much
I want your heart
beyond the gazes which
dance across your mind and body
so magnetic,
so irresistible.

Tiring

Endless chatter-

useless chatter-

and why did you need this?

you don't even know how it works

you refuse to learn!

And why did you do that?

your voice is loud, disruptive, rude

people are staring,

just freaking stop it

be thankful I didn't say worse,

or screech for you

to shut up

like your adult brother does,

I question my ability

to live with other human beings--

I'll never get married, if men

are like this

stubborn and clingy, simultaneously

claiming they don't need silly, prissy women--

family

is never something to write of

because it is never

curious, or unusual

it is not

idealized visions

of the unknown. 

Celestial

my boy was a distant light
cutting through the firmament
orbiting the earth
tracing his path like a planet
i was the astronomer
watching his revolutions
out in the cosmos
my boy was not from here
his heart knew lights and noise
different from mine
and they were the dictionaries
giving him new sounds
to name his world
my boy had eyes like galaxies
were lost inside of him
and i was the astronomer
who wanted to know their names
all of the words
and the lights, the sounds
that were different from mine
my boy was a universe
and i was the astronomer
i got lost in him
deep in the night i tracked
his every movement
his lips twitching, his soft breath,
long, thin hands
and fluttering eyelashes
yes, my boy was a new frontier
and i was the astronomer
to discover it.

my little room

it is my last morning
in my little room
which has housed me
this entire year
it will never hold me again.
and last night was the last time
i take my heels off
turn the light on
take off my makeup
and fall asleep in this little bed.
the end of my stay here has come
thank you to my little room
for being my lonely nights
my quiet mornings
and my strange afternoons.
thank you to  my little room
for being a new home
a new love
a resting place.

Embodiment of Spring

inspired by Korean poetry in translation. 


My voice exists in an empty space---

maybe the small, tight gap between

your windowsill and clear glass,

has become a mirror of my reality 

Sorrowfully, I sing my anthems to your soul

though you have become deaf

to my tiny voice,
while your mouth spills crashing waves

What life would I live, if I had 

seen you as you have seen me---

another body in a room of forms,

another skeleton, enveloped with fat

Your milk-colored ribs in the yellow light

are a pattern embossed

on your thin white shirt,

your flesh has its own name, you know, 

And the skin of your fingers and calves

coats your body in the sunlight

of twenty summers, before you hide

in the pale colors of spring 

Entering your window at evening

is the sweet smell of late May

and the lovely death 

of the flowers I once left at your feet

I have walked the same path

within my mind, thousands of nights

and I always return to this
meandering garden of the Spring

Whose breezes caress your sweet neck---I confess,
you have too long entertained

my foolish eyes, while my lips praise

your beauty and charms without end.

Anchor

You have been
sailing songs on the blue horizon--
blue meeting deep green,
your home was like an ocean
I heard you can see forever
on the plains,
You put down your anchor
in the back of my mind,
for three years, still
your ship rests there
Won't you sail away again?
as you said you would
long ago, but I see you
never did.

Vagabond

I stargazed on the Lawn

When I was young and foolish
and dreaming of other worlds

traced the paths of airships in the dark

One early spring night we
headed home under those stars
on the uneven brick sidewalk, and I
saw the world from your eyes

My name is Caroline
and this was my youth
this was my first love
this city, these Grounds

You are a vagabond

your home is not here nor there
you go flying to other worlds
and you say you're unimpressed

You were the vagabond
foolish and young, this
city was your midnight haunts
your drunken words going....on-and-on....

Oh, oh Vagabond,
cease your miserable lingering
this is Charlottesville
this was our only world

Oh, oh Vagabond!
those starlit spring nights were ours-
I am Caroline, and you've

haunted her youth far too long now. 

He Told Me to Run

They say I should find someone
who runs hard and fast to Him
fast as I can
but I'm not a good runner
I'm weak and injured
and so when I saw you
with all of your bruises and
scars, sitting on the side
of the road
I sat down
like my brother said I would
and I cradled your heart
in my hands
But today I realized,
I gotta run
I can't wait here forever
while I am called to come forth,
don't you hear it?
no you don't
don't you feel it?
no you don't
the Lifegiver passes by
and heals our wounds, yet your eyes
watch Him forlornly
I think you might get running one day
but for now I have to run alone
He didn't tell me to wait for you
no matter how beautiful
your heart
your eyes
you don't understand.
He told me to run to Him
and I'll obey.


-A.K.-

Forest Fires

The air is thick
With the heavy whirring of people
Yet they sound so far away, like the night
We danced under the glow of party lights

The sun casts a warm haze
Unnatural, as if the day were ending
Blazing hot on all of our faces, our skin is stained
With orange dust and red flush

I can barely smell the hint
Of trees burning in the distance, but
I can feel our hearts going up in flames as I
Sit in the cool shade of a new tree.


-A.K.-

Melancholy Breath

These overcast mornings

Wrap their acidic arms around me

In burning fumes of industry 

Last night's cigarettes permeate

My hair, I drift quietly through

The stifling air, warm to the touch

How do all the little green things

And new spirits survive here? 

Perhaps they learn to breathe in this world
This shred of dirty existence,

This perfume-bleached, humid stillness

This solitude we have lined with

Screaming horns and crying children

Voices layering together
Close enough I can taste the wet and hot
Excess from the depths of your chest. 

-A.K.-

Coffee

The sacred moment of your gaze
Before the light of dawn softens
Your pupil's depth, soaked in
Whiskey shots last night
At a loud bar on the corner,
Your lips slip into a smile
And I have become a mirror
Of these tender expressions,
Stretch your delicate form,
Graceful night fairy, grant me
This foggy morning wonder---
Steaming coffee I made
Cradled by cold hands.

-A.K.-

Cologne

My skin burns at the touch of bodies
Swaying, jerking, searching
With flailing arms and sweaty fingers
This room is bloated with heat
A balloon filling up, about to fly away
Cologne and cigarette smoke intertwine
Like your eyes with mine
Hello, hello, new pretty soul
Dancing like fireworks, your laughter
Sparks and then dies, repeat, repeat,
We could be racing in an adrenaline war
But you just melt like ice cream
On an early summer night
Slowly and quietly you dissolve
Into my skin, I will carry this with me forever
I can hear the voice in my head
Fleeting and thrilled, the nature of it
Like a breeze or a shooting star
Slipping through the night.

-A.K.-

January 8:09 A.M

Hello gradient dawn,
January is chilling us and we
Press fingers to cold glass
Electric white screen of morning
From Tokyo come short words
The fog, the haze dispersed,
Filling me up, the shock of
Iced clarity burning like
Wind on my face. 

1/6/2016

-A.K.
 

Cheerwine Floats

Let's drink youth  for the last time,
By a final toast of Cheerwine floats
Laughing and blurry eyed with heat and sugar highs,

My bare feet in the cool grass,
Your shoulders drooping beneath linen
Wrinkled and spoiled by summer's merciless smother

Take a deep breath, I will be spinning
Beneath ancient columns, grazing red bricks
Kicking up dust of ages past

"Mr. Jefferson said," yes, I'm sure he did,
Along with the birds and the crickets who sing
Our supposed sonnets of opportunity,

But my only souvenir is this dance
Possessed by the love of a May evening
Your eyes reflect a map of star-studded destinations,

God bless this little old city and your boyish voice
As all grows quiet, for not one will call out to me
If I walk these pathways ever again.

-A.K.-

My Top K-Dramas of 2015 {List}

With 2015 come and gone, I felt like doing mini-reviews/ranking of my top 5 favorite K-dramas of 2015. A snow day allowed me the time to go ahead and make this post. So, without further deliberation, here it is!

#1. Fool's Love/Hogu's Love

from dramarecap.com

Premise: "To make anything extraordinary into something ordinary".
Centered around the protagonist's name, Ho Gu, the title of this drama is definitely a play on the way Koreans "create" names for their children. In common speech, the word "hogu" means "fool", generally someone easy to take advantage of. Perhaps "pushover", or "gullible, but lovable idiot" comes to mind. And while the individual Chinese characters of "ho" and "gu" meant something entirely different to the parents who named this unfortunate young man, the common meaning of his name follows him wherever he goes.
He is a trusting, warm, loving, and extremely gullible artist, trying to make it in the world of online comic books but lacking the backbone to stand up to his demanding friends-turned partners or a publisher. He bends over backwards for everyone, including his younger twin sister Ho Kyung, and every girl he has ever been romantically interested in. As a result of being a tender, but poor nice guy, most women use him and then dump him without ever formally declaring a relationship with him. He's a "hogu" without any hope, but a twist of fate pushes him to make some changes.

By the second episode of this drama you will be thinking, like I did, that it fits within a particular conventional plotline that has been popular in K-dramas of recent years. Think. Again. This drama is jam-packed with unconventional story lines and lively, believable characters. I have compared it on multiple occasions with the timeless Coffee Prince, not just for the daring choices of the writers, but for the warmth, simplicity, and affection this drama seems to exude from its core.  Unlike popular "poor girl meets rich guy" dramas centered in a stylized, wealthy Gangnam, this drama takes you to Seoul's narrow, winding backstreets, little corner shops, and basement rooms; through the endless formalities and restrictions of "saving face" to the deeply-held assumptions of Korean culture. Yet, not to paint a picture too fantastically dreary, the story welcomes you into the hearts of human characters who are willing to push away from the limits of society and embrace each other with love.
This drama never loses its humor nor its humanity. I laughed through my tears. And if you have ever lived in Korea or visited, this drama will make you miss seaweed soup, village buses, and one-room apartments a lot more than you ever thought you could.

Also features my favorite song by Busker Busker, "Yeosu Night Sea".

#2. Unkind Women

dramafever.com

Premise: Three generations of women live in one house together. Not a single man is present, but it seems they are getting by just fine (?) on their own. Okay, in actuality, they are not getting by that well at all, though its not for lack of men. In fact, they generally blame men for all of their misfortune. One man, to be exact: their father/husband/grandfather, who disappeared one night, presumably dead in a fire at a bar. Before he passed away, it was discovered that he was having an extramarital affair, and the spark of anger his wife held has continued burning in her heart to this day.
The wife, Soon Ok, has become an old woman, running her own cooking franchise. She has books, her own brand, and private classes, but still her unresolved anger dictates her life. Her eldest daughter, Hyun Jung, is a successful TV host, but her position is threatened by increasing age and fading beauty. All the while she suffers from loneliness; scarred by her father's behavior, she avoids relationships with men at all costs. The younger daughter, Hyun Sook, was expelled from high school for various reasons beyond her control, and the drama particularly focuses on her individual story. She is a failure at life, a complete loser suffering from depression and anxiety due to her mistakes. She and her husband are separated. Her daughter, who worked as a professor at a university, loses her position. The drama follows all four women as they attempt to regain their happiness, hope, and pride.

This drama would be top of the list if it weren't for the fact that it is quite long (and Hogu's Love is just that good). Don't be intimidated by the 24 episodes, however. This drama is completely cheesy but totally worth it as we watch our family of ladies get into scrape after scrape with the men in their lives. It isn't a romance, it isn't a mystery, it isn't a melodrama, it isn't a coming of age story, it is all of them, together, co-existing in a  deliciously random kind of harmony which employs truly phenomenal, experienced actresses to transport this story to the screen. Even as the characters grow and change, they never lose their individual temperaments; quirks which bring humor and life to the story. Finally, a huge thanks to my friend Hojun for directing me to this drama. I wouldn't have found/watched it if it weren't for him.

#3. Twenty Again

dramabeans.com

 Premise: Returning to a time of youth and missed opportunities.
Nora is a middle aged housewife who always wanted to attend college, but had a shotgun wedding right after graduating high school. Her husband then moved the entire family to Germany for several years, during which Nora grew into her role as a mother and housewife. But saying she never looked back would be unrealistic.
In the present, her relationship with her now-professor husband has crumbled. He claims she is not well-read enough for them to communicate. Lacking any idea of how to respond, Nora simply agrees with him and they begin the divorce process by signing a contract and obtaining some papers. However, her husband doesn't wish to formally submit the papers until their son, now a high school senior, graduates college, for fear it will be too hard for him to take.
Nora obediently agrees to all of this, while inside she is deeply hurt by the fact that her husband no longer loves her. In an effort to rekindle their love, she secretly attends hagwon classes, takes the college entrance exam, and is accepted at one of the country's top universities. Though she plans to tell her husband immediately and then leave the school, she enjoys it so much she decides to stay. Her happy college days are met with complications when she realizes her husband (who she was told worked at a different school) has secretly transferred his employment to her school. Her son is also accepted into the same school, and her high school friend, Cha Hyun Seok is a visiting professor, teaching one of her classes.

The first episode will have you begging Nora to get some backbone, but this won't happen for a while. A sense of independence is something which must be cultivated, not forced. But have no worries. She cultivates a new, personal version of herself as she relives the year she never had- the age of twenty. In the process, she brings light to her life and restores the dreams of youth others have lost. This is a heartwarming drama about something I always considered common and unquestioned: the decision of a middle aged person to go back to school. It is more complicated than you might think.
The romance of this drama is extremely well-done. Respect, space, and understanding is given by the male lead as his female counterpart "grows up" in front of him, transforming from an apologetic doormat into someone who is willing to call out injustice, work hard for a goal, and appreciate her own accomplishments. Furthermore, it cannot be said that they never experience disagreements, which makes the relationship even more real to me.


#4. The Producers

Premise: A high school boy's longtime crush becomes a television producer (or PD for short). Therefore, he becomes a PD too.
Though perhaps not the most logical step for young Seung Chan, as the life of a producer is quite difficult, he works hard to do his best on his first day. Oh, that is, until he realizes that his first love is dating the flippant, free, and obnoxious Joon Mo, who just happens to be his supervisor. Thrust onto the PD crew of the hilariously failing 2 Days 1Night program, Seung Chan is immediately the target of everyone else's insecurities, failed relationships, and lack of creativity. As he stumbles through this new world, his blunders are met with the fierce and unforgiving Ye Jin, PD for Music Bank. She's a brusque older woman, burned by one too many young idols and their companies trying to tank her show with skimpy outfits and untamed lyrics.  Things get even more complicated when singer Cindy becomes involved in the 2 Days 1 Night program in an effort to keep the show afloat. But Cindy is prissy, needy, and demanding, and a rough show like 2 Days 1 Night might chip her nail-oh no! Enter Seung Chan, the only one who can convince her to stay on the show (and therefore keep his job, which he desperately needs now that all of his /romantic/ hopes and dreams have been crushed by his supervisor whom he hates but must help in order to stay employed).

The entire plot of this drama is one hilarious loophole after another. I found it to lack substance at times, and it became especially frustrating after the director switch (though unconventional, I liked the style of the first director more). However, the fact that KBS made a show about it's own PD department bumbling around through various harrowing yet humorous moments is a charming concept. Seung Chan is lovable, lovable, lovable, though he's definitely a complete pushover at the beginning of the show. Joon Mo makes you want to smack him, but no worries-plenty of women do. And our two feisty ladies, in their attempt to create a world of stability from chaos, remain bitter, demanding, grouches through and through, but perhaps they soften up a bit towards the end *wink*. The acting in this drama is just as top-notch as the other three on this list, featuring big names Cha Tae Hyun, Gong Hyo Jin, Kim Soo Hyun, and IU, and a whole cast of other well-known faces. If you haven't watched this drama, you have at least heard of it. I enjoyed the concept and the plot was alright. I found, like most generally good/okay dramas it was stretched out too much towards the middle and became a bit draggy, but thankfully it picked itself up and charged on ahead without losing too much steam.

#5. Warm and Cozy/Jeju Island Gatsby

Premise: "I'll give you a chance if we meet again. Grow up into a cool girl who makes me fall instantly."
"Then you grow up to be a failure, one I'd throw away instantly. Live recklessly so that I'll have that chance with you."
A poor girl has a kind encounter with rich boy, but for ten years they do not meet again.
In the present, the poor girl has grown into a poor woman who is fed up with life in Seoul. Deciding to start a business in Jeju, she gives all of her money to her cousin to start the process, and he screws up royally. She moves to Jeju to pick up the pieces of her disastrous failure. Enter boy from high school who is still rich but now even more immature and mean than he was before. Yay! Prince charming here to save the day! Not.

Awww, Jung Joo. Life in Jeju is a real struggle when she finds out that her cousin has bought a rotting and rickety property for cheap and run off to honeymoon in Brazil with all of her money. To make matters worse, after finding out her boyfriend is a cheater, her high school "prince charming", Gun Woo, reappears in her life. He's still far better off than she is, and his attitude stinks like a typical rich guy. But wait, not only is he rich and childish, he's running a failing restaurant in a town of people who hate him just because he's still in love with a terrible girl who treats him like dirt. And his older brother, Mr. Responsible Jung Geun, knows it. When Jung Joo's life is falling apart, Gun Woo comes to her aid through a series of misunderstandings and the loss of his car and credit card ("IF YOU DON'T BEHAVE I AM GROUNDING YOU" finally happened after over twenty years). They work together, though often at odds, to befriend the townspeople, mayor, and famous lady divers of Jeju to create a Warm and Cozy place where great food is served and love blossoms. It's a typical Hong Sisters drama. This show was a little slow to get started, but once it gained focus it became pretty addictive. I love the glimpses of native Jeju life from the perspective of two non-locals, the amazing food is amazing, and while Jung Joo and Gun Woo's relationship drove me insane most of the time, the push and pull is only natural for this extremely finicky pair. You will rip every piece of your hair out right during the middle drag zone, because this show will drag along at a snail's pace like nothing you have ever seen.  You will hate and love it simultaneously until all of those emotions have been exhausted. But there is redemption in the fact that this show incorporates a super sweet sideline romance, development of side characters, gorgeous scenery/filming, a family background mystery, lots of island culture, the Jeju language, and great food (did I already say the food is amazing?). It also employs great actors Kang So Ra and my beloved darling Yoo Yeon Seok. Watch it on a rainy day when you have no idea what drama you want to see, and it will, through the crazy, make you feel warm and cozy.

HONORABLE MENTIONS (because it's hard to condense K-dramas into one post):

Oh My Ghostess!---unique plot, great characters, KIM SEULGI. Love her.
Sensory Couple/The Woman Who Sees Smells---that murder plot though. Also, Park Yoochun.
Tomorrow Cantabile---please marry me cello guy (read: Park Bo Geom). Also, Joo Won. You just want to hug both of them.

And there you have it. Check out these amazing 2015 dramas when you get the chance. You won't be disappointed!

-A.K.-

The Waltz

I waltz alone in the blue light of dawn
One, two, three, four,
Rhythmic swaying in the delicate moment
Nearly silent, if not for music,
Drifting in the air, not to be shared with you
Coffee in hand, piping hot, not to be shared with you
One, two, three, four
Heart aching with want and for what, not to be shared
With you, at least, as I imagine
It does so for want of you--it knows no better!
Than wanting, and it knows not the pleasure
Nor possession of this dawn,
Not to be shared with you, or anyone, at all.

-A.K.-

goals, airplanes, and graduation

I'm about to graduate. This is my last semester at U.Va. Hard to believe, isn't it?

I'm actually applying for a job. Wow. For those that don't know, due to certain circumstances, I'm graduating two years early. Though this isn't exactly an excuse to be unemployed after graduation, I had been hoping to avoid serious employment for a time just so I could spend time with my family. However, other duties and interests in life have called me, and here I am, applying for a job to teach English in Korea.
I thought it would be easy to develop senioritis this coming semester, but I'm keeping it at bay. I want to do my very best this semester...if this is the end, I want it to end with firecrackers and laughing, not quiet resolution that I can't do any better. Every second is one I can count toward further goals in my future.
Actually accomplishing my sixteen year old dream is a lot to wrap my head around, so I try not to think about it or worry too much about it. I blame my fascination with goals on my parents. Tonight, my mom was telling me about her college experience and education,which ended after she graduated and was married to my dad. I don't think she made a bad decision at all, but I agree with her; sometimes it's sad to realize she will never pursue those other dreams and goals related to her interests.
Tonight I learned from her that if there is something I want to do, I should do it without hesitation.  I might try it and hate it, but if I never try it, I will never know. If I never know, I might regret it for the rest of my life, wondering about what could have been.
That's why, at present, I refuse to let anything, including my fears, worries, or lonesomeness, get in the way of living in Korea long term. I've already fallen in love with the country after being there twice, and a return visit will occur either way. I have a lot of doubts, suspicions, and generally ridiculous fears related to living there long term. I need to dispel those. I need to see how far I can take my adventurous spirit; what is the limit of this interest?
I've developed and changed a lot in my time here at U.Va and no doubt I will continue to do so elsewhere. It's hard sometimes to want what I do so badly. It's just living abroad, right? It's not something that should be hard to do. But for some reason, I make it difficult for myself. I have so many feelings, attachments, wanderings, desires, and they bog me down and confuse me. What do I really want? Do I actually want to travel? What if I just do some research? Get my master's degree? How about just finding a nice guy and staying close to home so I can develop a relationship?
It would all be nice. So why does going to Korea tear at me so violently? I'm not kidding. There are few other things I have ever wanted so much. I've had feelings for many a man, and never have I wanted him more than Korea...I've come close, but never jumped off the bridge. I've had interests and deviations, including art, writing, research, and psychology, but none of them has ever fascinated me more than traveling overseas. Quite frankly, I am obsessed with it, and I have no idea why. It is one of those okay obsessions, those things it is alright to say "I don't care about anything else" and just love (wouldn't life be easier if it were acceptable to be that obsessed with a person? Sadly, it seems that is less psychologically healthy).
This has plagued me since I developed the obsession, but it grew worse in the summer of last year, when I started questioning my goals over friendships, romantic feelings, and new interests. Ultimately, my goal won out. I couldn't abandon that which has become a part of myself. I couldn't turn my back on my hopes and dreams. I want it, and with my languid and quiet personality, it is rare for me to want something this much.
Tonight I discovered why. I know with near total certainty that if I never live in Korea, I will regret it for the rest of my life. I will think about it, feel sad about it, and quietly desire it. What's the point in that? Yes, I could be disappointed. I could have a terrible experience. But I could also have the best one, beyond my wildest imaginations. So I must know. I can't let it go, I can't stop thinking about it, I can't change myself for someone else's whims or insecurities.

Nothing can stop me, because if I stop, I will regret it for the rest of my life. 

-A.K.-

Phantom

The sky is blue like your blood and your veins

Would they give me the permission

To reach out to your soul or make claims

I have disregarded my own decisions

And touch your slender fingertips

Whose empty spaces leave me entranced

Which spirit allowed you to be such a mystic?

What deity granted you sentience?

Your midnight haunts and empty footsteps

Of worlds I cannot even begin to fathom

They draw me in, you are the only order left

Among the chaos, you become a phantom.

 

-A.K.-

2015 and the Changing Self

A clear memory from December 31st, 2014, is stealing away from the party and the people to find my childhood friend out in the yard, gazing at a pile of dying embers in the chilly night, smoking a pipe. He offered to let me try it. I said yes. It tasted weird. I think that was the most prominent feature of my 2015: I wanted to try everything, even things I said I wouldn't do before. The desperation to try everything which consumed me was almost crazy in its boldness, threatening all of my usual planning, preparing, and risk-aversion. Life was an adventure!
I thought about listing them, but I don't believe what I actually did was very important. It's the take-aways, the lessons learned from the experience, which legitimize them. That being said, I encourage anyone who hasn't tried something yet to try it, provided it doesn't immediately harm your body. If you think doing car spins in an empty parking lot at midnight is unsafe, then don't do them---but after trying it, I think they're fun.
Last year departed in an unusual way, considering the feverish way I moved about the world during it. Everything came to a peaceful standstill. A warm evening with old friends who grew and changed on their own this year. Yet as we drove home, it seemed like everything I did this year was something I had just done. All of those isolated events coupled up and came barreling toward me together, bringing on a mood of melancholy consideration and, later in the New Year, drunken ramblings. The changes I personally chose to experience are nothing short of ridiculous in some contexts, and I was more than aware of that in the wee hours of January 1st. Logically, the next step is to pull away from change in myself. The very experience I was romanticizing two hours before midnight became something I feared by the next evening. I stood outside looking at the stars last night praying for something which was constant to take away my fear, before I realized quite suddenly that God is my constant. Though each year brings changes in my social relationships, personal goals, and self, none of these are things which I should expect to remain consistent. Instead of flailing about wildly, shutting out that which has changed, I hope I can embrace the person who was the nineteen year old me, and has emerged as the twenty year old me.
We make decisions, mistakes, and have triumphs. None of them can be ignored when a new year arrives. We live with our current selves, not the past or future ones. 2016 is just another year. January 1st is just the date we choose to mark the fluid passage of time in our lives.
I'll change anyway, regardless of anything else. 

-A.K.-

Iain

I would be running wild with my hair tied back
Cotton shorts with little legs sticking out
White like moonlight on water
Dirty feet wading through the silk grasses
Of our front yard, oh youth
You hurt, you haunt, for I have
Misheard the ruling of a judge in
June with no breeze, the defendants scream but
I remain silent, staring at you and I know
Brown orbs like mine carry nothing
You see them, stormy and irrational as
Strawberry milk words pouring
Out of my mouth, childish tie-dye
Crop-top shirt like Dan's of mine,
Incredulous! Questions sent to fireflies who
Answer not, just blinking luminescence,
His kaleidoscope eyes always
Sparkled at me, the game was too enjoyable
Pricking, poking, dancing, you're mean!
I hid from you in my tiny fort
Wrapped myself up in your taunting, and now
Twist strings about your conscience,
Iain is fleeting constellations, broken telescopes,
Glancing at galaxies like a thief,
Cut the knots we made and travel to the place
Where we are running again
Dewy grass in dusky summer, bells
Toll the approach of the engine
A whistle crying deep in the night.

-A.K.-