korea summer shorts

I. 3-4 months

june was spent
repeating
"lets take advantage of tonight
before monsoons
and
august humid heat
hit."

july is spent
repeating
"i am sitting here
listening to
the
rain
fall down"

august will be spent
repeating
"i fuckin' hate this humidity
will it EVER
end?
where did winter go?"

september and how its spent
is anybody's guess.


II. on writing

this week
the sentences translated
trickle in
at leaky faucet pace
leaving me the time
to do my real
work


III. this morning

awaking to evidence of
lines criss-crossed
(perhaps tis my own fault
for allowing them to be so open
blurred)
but
we each have our own pen
with which to draw.
i ink mine in words


IV. the past

out of a need
not birthed
but resulted from
birthing --
of cords cut
(literal
and
real)
any line thrown
i have
bound to my
indent
grasping for
a knot
to remain
tied.
resulting in
damaged
webs
of spider's
silk.

-- and like a bug
i would get so
stuck. --

V. today

through the wires
that run overhead
satellite connected
we speak
in a technology
i thought for my
children's
children
never in (my)
lifetime.

it is the invisible which
connects us
the flutterings of
interwebs.

VI. friends

i am suspicious
of any --
no matter how good --
who do not surround
their lives
with
ones who
live
accountable
and whole
hearted
admitting
self insecurities
and
changing.
who know the value of
a
step
and the need for
love
lines.


VII. 일곱

as a child
i learned these numbers
at summer camp
and
tae kwon do
yelling each one out
happy to be 9
and looking forward to the age of
10
punching our fists straight out into the air
i broke a board with one
yalp
i cried like rain
when i failed in front of
family.
and in counting
found no
consolation.

VIII. nostalgia

20s waking in the alps
always brought me
back to earth
no matter where my lines
would spin
i long for odysseys like
that again
days gone past
what now to do with this
golden
fleece?

IX. present

like glasses that keep needing
to be topped off
i sense the shot
turned pint
turned
pitcher
turned
keg
i keep
refilling

one day i'll be a tanker

X. no longer

how i once did
i can no longer
do
punish you
for not being
what you could
never be
punish me
for not being
what i should not
never
be.

i cannot
go back
to past.
(nostalgic though i am)

i pull out my pen
in the repeating phrase
of july
draw my lines
upon this fleece thats golden
yell out sino count
while ink bleeds humid

and laugh with friends
whilst they down
martinis
and i smoke
cigarettes

all connected by the
spider's
interwebs
in which im no longer

stuck.


kim thompson seoul. s. korea thurs. afternoon. 7 july '11