Gazing at the Creek

  

GAZING AT THE CREEK

from above

the trees spiral—

the surface, 

daguerreotypic

reflection.

Stratospheric strands

 

falling on the water;

a breeze blows

 

past the sphinxlike supports

of a low-water bridge.

Seoul Pets

 I wrote these for my wife's aunts in South Korea. There is some competition between their doggies and so they each got their own poem.

                    1.

MU’S RAINY-DAY BLUES

 

Mu looks 

outside…

 

baths of water, 

too wet for walks,

no ice cream, 

 

and smells muddled together. 

 

O Mu, just rest. 

The sun 

will be back; 

you will be walking past the bushes and the guard who says hello, then over the bumpy walkways to the park! 

 

                    2.

SOL’S SEOUL STRIDE 

 

Everyone smiles 

when they see those long legs 

striding around Seoul. 

Ajuma, look at those 

long-stemmed 

yellow rose legs, 

 

says the baker 

to the street vendor. 

Yes, they all agree! Sol 

is so sociable and popular! 

 

Rushing to his playdate, 

he drags his poor master behind him 

like a plow, 

 

block after block. Sol, 

bad boy! Those rope burns

and bruises on your mommy…

 

All the girls like you, 

Golden Boy, 

Prince of Cheongdam-dong.

1.

뮤의 비오는 날 

뮤가 봅니다

창문 밖을

목욕도 가능할 수 있을것 같은 양의 물

걷기에 너무 젖어

아이스크림도 없잖아

밖에서 온 냄새가 함께 진흙향과 같이 납니다

 

오 뮤, 오늘은 그냥 쉬어

곧 태양이

나올 것이야

그리고 너는 덤불들 그리고 인사하는 경비원 아저씨를 지나 울퉁불퉁 한 산책로를 지나갈 것이야

공원으로 향하면서

2.

[솔이와 걷는길]

모두 미소 짓어요

긴 다리를 보면

서울을 돌아 다니시다가 강남 아줌마들은 봅니다

하얗고 노란 긴 장미 줄기 같은 다리들

경비원 아저씨는 말하십니다

노점상 아저씨한테

"예, 모두 동의합니다! 설리는 무척

사교적이고 인기가 있습니다!"

그의 플레이 데이트로 돌진하며

그는 종종 불쌍한 엄마를 그 뒤로 끌고갑니다

쟁기처럼

동네 한 바퀴. 솔이

이런 힘센 인싸 소년! 이 목줄로 인한 아야

엄마한테 멍이 ...

놀이방 친구들은 다

골든 소년, 하이!

솔이는 청담동 왕자님

NEW BLOG ADDRESS

 All of the posts from this blog have been exported to the new MindOfMoog blog.

It has a better name...

Harp

Sound of the wind:

aeolian—

 

I think of you.

Navel Gazing

To live well for me would be to wander in a garden. An earthly one.

I wonder at the bitter roots of my mind’s fruits—why am I so faithless?

I have learned by turning on myself, yet all the while my soul abides.

I shed myself and find new skin, moving from vesicle to vesicle.

Long is the day and short the night,

but darkness shrouds my inner light.

 

When the sun rises, my cat rushes to the light.

It warms her, she bathes in it. I admire her

ability to enjoy these daily pleasures.

We are not so far apart. I can see

her intentions but I cannot reach

that inner peace in her eyes.

 

Beauty lies all around us, I suppose it’s in the eyes.

Too often, I sat waiting for another to kindle this light.

How deep seem my shallows, how shallow my deep;

for that which the eye cannot touch lingers beyond reach

taunting the proud. I approach my shadow.

Who approaches? I AM, speaks my soul.

 

Let us not linger too long in the depths. Brevity is the soul

of wit. Sometimes, I am troubled by long nights. My eyes

burn as I squint in the dark. I should be sleeping

but a question is stuck in my throat, longing

to be announced. Am I that, which I am?

As soon as I posit myself entire, I enter a labyrinth.

 

This wandering life can grow weary. Where is the center of the labyrinth?

One tires of the spirit’s walls. I long for an audience with my soul.

Invocation is less than worthless. I seek and it recedes.

My mind knows not what it asks.

I seek Ithaca, but I am at sea.

Must I make these waves, my home?

 

I see some distant mass and long to find my home.

I think I am found. I move through a labyrinth

of familiar shapes, yet they seem empty.

Perhaps, I am wrong. Maybe home is in the apse of the eye?

My wondering is self-reflexive, I am at odds with myself.

Once again, I ask: where is the heart of the labyrinth?

 

Night is forever. Silence waits at the end of delight. Doubt is a labyrinth.

Innocence loses its way. The spirit rooms in the soul, passing another day.

My heart is like meaning. It works thanklessly for me day and night.

Labyrinth

One wanders around

in labyrinthine

search of oneself.

 

Born at the center,

we drift outwards

until the end.

 

This mortal coil,

is my labyrinth.

 

I wander in doubt,

but with faith

in this wandering

life, which is mine.

 

Its walls are only as narrow

as my eyes; my perspective

is as deep as my gaze.

 

The more I wander,

the more I wonder

at the intricacy of

 

my labyrinth,

my world.

 

As far as I can see,

it keeps going—

it is growing,

it seems.

 

Once, it was maddening

not to be able to see

a means to the end.

 

All our ends,

                      are means—

we are not lost—

                            now I see that

I am circulating.

 

We move like blood

from the heart

to the brain

and back.

 

-James B. Moog

This Drifting Life

I want to will,

I will to want,

I remain still.

 

Is this wanting

willed, or is it

my will that is

wanting?

-James B. Moog

Diva in Fur

O, stay not thy visits diva in fur!

You move like jazz and weave

to me. Wordlessly, I infer

your desires. Do not leave.

I hear you slinking, undeterred,

in spite of our spat, I cannot cleave

myself from you. Though you injure

me with your claws, I believe

it is only your temperament—

there, your greening eyes repent!

My fury dissipating like a dream;

I forgive you and recline serene.

You pounce upon me in no time—

how could I blame you, my feline?

 

-James B. Moog

Free Range Egg

1. "I tell you, the egg is but a means to an end..."

2. "Yes, Egg is something to be overcome."

3. [SLAM!] "All that ain't for me...you see..."

4. "I'm proud to be an egg!"

5. "Egg is in!"

6. "And I'm an egg about town." ["Here we go!; "Wheeee, Yah!]

7. "Don't put us all in that basket!"

8. "So you see, guys, I'm a free range egg now!"

I never feel myself on the group chat

Every face is 

like a window

(a mirror). 

Every face seems my own

for a moment

(if it speaks clearly,

if I listen carefully).

I am among them

and experience them all

at the same time.

Yet, when I look closely

at my own visage

it seems false

and distant.

I extend myself to those others 

in close sympathy;

myself, I experience at a

                                         l

                                          a

                                            g.

Beyond the Pleasure Principle

I never got Beyond 

the Pleasure Principle;

I couldn't figure id out.