At the end of the world there will remain a poem.
My time capsule of sorts. Poems about growing up, things that make me happy or sad, and musings on life as a melancholic over the years.
the spoons are just above the pots
it’s so strange
you don’t even know what my bedroom looks like
didn’t you use to tell me to make my bed?…
the bores of every day
im looking forward to days filled
with the daily bores of every day
things that bear more …
that must be why they are so angry
they don’t know
the amount of care a grandmother spends
rolling rice under seaweed just for them…
i know, i’m sorry, i love you, thank you
i know, i’m sorry, i love you, thank you
English ⇆ Korean
알아요 미안 해요 사랑 해요 고마워요…
all the parts of a meal
Time, here and my dinner guest.
we graze each other’s feet under the table,
and blush behind the dancing candelabra…
what’s the half of it?
i miss my dad taking care of me.
being held by him,
believing he was a superhero…
six feet away
you would think with clearer skies,
we might be able to see God -
ask him: how am i to get close to you?…
