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| Poet's Sleep, 1989, Chang Houg Ahn |
The taste is new;
a mellow concoction
of innocence and corruption,
without a sell-by date.
I keep coming back,
like the tongue finds a change
in the mouth; a chipped tooth,
compelling imperfection.
I contradict myself;
conjure burnt offerings
to distract from the foreign,
strum a long melody on a bone comb.
It is still there.
Stubborn and marvelous, circular;
reminding me, like drunken chessmen,
to remain true to my lips.
tk/February 2014
tk/February 2014
