Category: A Daily Poem

(Poem #366 on new numbering scheme)

Far out in open country where dogs run,
and creatures fight each other with their sticks,
and piles of bones lie scattered here and there
beneath the trees... there I will take a rest.

(Poem #365 on new numbering scheme)

I brought him home to wash him clean.
The Rainbow Monkey dries.
He's cleaner than he was before.
But still he's not so wise.

(Poem #363 on new numbering scheme)

The weather is warm.
People are screaming outside.
Maybe they're happy.

[daily log: walking, 1km]

(Poem #362 on new numbering scheme)

Some clouds disputed with the ground and trees.
The earth kept forcing its branches skyward;
the sky in turn was throwing down droplets.
My friend and I were waiting; so we talked.
I sat and pulled out from my pocket, then,
my smartphone, checking something. Suddenly
a splash of rain struck the screen. Like magic,
the dictionary app was opened. "Look,"
my friend insisted, "there's your next poem."

(Poem #361 on new numbering scheme)

A cup on the edge
of the counter. I'll wash it
later this evening.

(Poem #360 on new numbering scheme)

It's better to refuse an argument
with shadows and shades. They can seem to lack
originality and anyway
they will agree with all your rhetoric.

(Poem #359 on new numbering scheme)

Korea's been my home almost ten years
and here I never drive a car. Yet still
I dream the driving dreams: road trips of youth
relived like films, a night or two each month.

(Poem #357 on new numbering scheme)

The clouds became a fortress hung
against the rainy sky
The buildings lurked beneath, alone
like animals too shy.

(Poem #356 on new numbering scheme)

Some words come like air,
others like sleep. Steam rises
from July's pavement.

[daily log: walking, 7.5km]

(Poem #355 on new numbering scheme)

Apocalypses come and go
like swathes of summer rain
They sweep across the warm, damp streets
and push leaves down the drain.

(Poem #354 on new numbering scheme)

At work, I sometimes get so angry.
This tends to arise out of doubts:
the quality of my work.
Am I making progress?
Students fail to learn.
Colleagues don't care.
Kids complain.
I can't
help.

(Poem #353 on new numbering scheme)

If I had said the rock was mystified
what would have been my meaning? Would a rock
have hoped to understand what I had said?
Or would the rock just lie there, doing zen?

(Poem #352 on new numbering scheme)

the trees hang, depressed.
traffic zooms through summer's heat
and humidity.

(Poem #349 on new numbering scheme)

The monsoon brought clouds
and rain. I ate some oatmeal
from my small glass bowl.

(Poem #348 on new numbering scheme)

The animals were gathered to discuss
a plan to make the monkey their new king.
The simian was giving them a grin -
in fact, he felt an utter disregard.

(Poem #346 on new numbering scheme)

To eat is not now any luxury:
a dull task that's devoid of pleasure which
I do because I must despite my lack
of any sense of taste and aimless tongue.

(Poem #344 on new numbering scheme)

Perhaps the trees were happy with the move.
The dirt was nice; the buildings gave them shade.
At first, the rain was beautiful, it seemed.
But winds appeared, and blew the young trees down.

(Poem #343 on new numbering scheme)

The raindrops tried to take my window's screen...
a beachhead might be made, for further floods;
the other raindrops offered their applause
but gave them no material support.

(Poem #342 on new numbering scheme)

moss on dirt, under trees:
sudden greenness; summer rain
licks at the gray air.

[daily log: walking, 8km]

(Poem #341 on new numbering scheme)

Collected colors, named and counted now,
and various important types of lines,
arrayed on screens or paper so that when
it all is fit together, you see worlds.

(Poem #340 on new numbering scheme)

It breaks my heart to have students so smart
begin to show such weak but obstinate
resistance: they've decided not to work
and lost their interest in learning things.
Perhaps instead I failed to reach their minds.

(Poem #339 on new numbering scheme)

inanimate things
take on life when abandoned:
a chair in the grass.

(Poem #338 on new numbering scheme)

The contrast medium went in
injected by the nurse.
The fluid flowed, wine-bright and hot,
into my veins, and worse.

(Poem #337 on new numbering scheme)

Arranging words like little particles
of light that bound through space like hunted prey
that hope to flee those ravenous weird beasts
imagined, I decide to take a break.

(Poem #336 on new numbering scheme)

The rain arrived. Each year's monsoon
Begins about this time.
The sky becomes a vacant gray.
A gust finds some wind chime.

(Poem #335 on new numbering scheme)

The people were distributing their souls
across the city, traveling by train
through tunnels and among the buildings strewn
around the elevated tracks like toys.

[daily log: walking, 9km]

(Poem #334 on new numbering scheme)

Representations will unfold.
Then, mirroring moon's dusky gold,
they hover with laconic tones
until clouds can press them on stones.