어디에?

Seoul is a rattle in the hands of small children
it shakes with restless waking
the evening and raging buses.

Their faces turn towards the dirty lights of street stalls
and babble with the fire
of kimchi.

I walk between them, parting oceans
I only just crossed
into littered streets and towards
brighter lights

the knotted women root on bus stop benches
– bent smiles
are like the music of subway stations.

Exposed fawn calves of schoolgirls
only compliment
the plaid of their skirts, cigarette butts on street curbs, the wafting scent of fish oils.

East past fast food restaurants
ancient stone walls lead from neon
a time-line
sent spiraling

Grey block ramparts encircle secret gardens
of past princes shadowing shallow ponds
and an island of yellow grass.

Paths lined by magnolia lead deeper
into forests
crimson blossoms peeking through the prison bar bamboo.

There is a forested mountain and a sapphire-tiled shrine, rocky streams, farms of rice.
Toothless men dig barefoot through watercress, eyes gleaming
as the clams spill from an overfull basket.

On the peak
a ginger stone, bent like Buddha, overlooks a jade kingdom.
Silver wing-tips play in velvet pine,
candid chatter swimming through the valley.

Eternity is trapped in the fragrance of stagnant rainwater
beneath a warming sun.

If I don’t come back
this is where you should find me.
Just listen.
The drum beats steady by my hand.

05/2005