come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
it’s a small plastic bag of sour jellies
that brings me so much soft comfort
I can look over sharper pieces on the street.
It’s a fading smooth mango sunset
that brings sweetness to my eyes
I can look through the darkness.
once in a while,
I look at the small things
to walk this walk.
5.24.2023
this fleeting moment
nothing is permanent
rather than what’s visible
it’s the invisible that lasts longer.
for example:
the soft warmth wrapped by lazy summer sunset
the silky softness summer breeze carries
the quiet steadiness a resolved heart feels.
do not cry;
rather smile.
remember to keep your playful heart
without looking away from the lions.
5.17.2023
I remember the four seasons in that house.
in the summer, I can see the dark blue sky
through a sun window tilted diagonally.
I’d lay on the bed, reading William Matthews.
in the fall, I can pick a dried brown leaf
of a chestnut tree & make a wish
for a magical season to begin.
in the winter, I can see the back yard,
now piling up with thick, soft snow,
through kitchen window
as I wash bowls that had dumpling soups.
in the spring, I would stare at sunset,
glistening in a silent glorious opera
through budding green tree leaves
as I finish packing boxes.
the squeaking sound of wooden floors,
the table of vynil record player,
and the bottle of wine.
I remember the scent of the moment.
5.12.2023
let us sweat when we can;
build the work that may go unseen
help that may not be reciprocated
though there are many sweets and beauts
I know who I am; and what I am called to:
the reason to raise the body from the ground
the joy in the hustle with fellow companions
and appreciation of small things
such as the whistle of a bird
amongst breezy autumn forest
glorious descent of graceful sun through horizon
I am humbly thankful for these graces.
9.19.2022
it was, albeit brief, a bright encounter
the wind was blowing the right way
the nostalgic sun light laid down warmly
as if written in the book,
as if it is the time to turn a page,
we arrived here: finally — quickly —
eye contact; flash of timid smile;
a question; a surprise; more thinking;
a bit; a burst of laughter;
explosion of emotions;
and then it came to an end —
with it, starts a dream of another rendez-vous
within you
9.13.2022
how frequently do you remember seeing a sunset?
how frequently do you let your eyeballs soak in its glorious meltdown
and let your soul melt in its basking orange-rouge warmth?
and what do you feel? gratitude or bittersweetness? anger or sadness?
how frequently do you remember seeing a sunset?
7.12.2022
it was a two story apartment painted in white
the room was painted in purple
blue sky was wide open via tilted sun window
in the morning sunshine would glisten
in the afternoon sunset would glow golden
the floor was made of smooth old wood
the stairs would squeak on each step I took
there was an oak tree with many leaves
each leaf had a saying to it, I believe
all that remains is this memory
sounds like a lie
4.19.2022
가을의 향기가 났다.
돈은 한푼 없고 쓸데없이
고급진 커피향에 찌든 어느날
내 검은 자켓 소매를 붙잡히고
클래식한 붉은 벽돌의 한 동내의
눈부신 노을과 반항기의 장난들
멋도 모르고 마냥 좋았던 미소
고요한 순간 느끼던 그림자의 존재함
지금은 꿈과 같은 그 순간이
잠시 코끝을 스쳐갔다.
there was a scent of the autumn
a penniless, pitifully soaked in luxurious
coffee aroma, that one day
dragged by the sleeve of my black jacket
that classic brown bricked street’s
blinding sunset and a little rebel’s tricks
smiles that I cluelessly loved so much
presence of shadow sensed in silence
those moments that now feel like a dream
momentarily breezed by under my nose.
4.18.2022
yes, I am quite certain now
the time has accelerated somehow
smiles of warmth washed to six
wild parade of blurry matches to three
only time stamp on an old dee-ess-el-ar
revealed a trick dorment between ears
perhaps a sign to run forward faster
perhaps a sign to cherish things slower
I wave a good-bye to sunset
now I understand how it was meant to be spent
3.25.2022
in that moment, I happened to stare up
towards the brown-bricked wall
painted in plain lemon yellow color
and the orange sunset light
all that refracted light from branches
fell on the wall, silently, and softly.
at that moment, I remembered vaguely
yes, I used to think sentimentally.
I used to smile nostalgically at the
warmth of a mother bird cooing the babies
in her nest, ever so protected from outside
word, so warm and fuzzy and soft and safe —
I almost forgot that previous version of me,
which, I think is only a thought or two away
from now, used to have overflowing feelings.
I — it was at that moment I realized — had
promised myself that I would come back.
that once all these battles incurred by
pesty intruders were finished, I’d come back.
That we would smile, feel easy with trust,
and make jokes whose smile won’t stop
once we were done with just this one job.
but then I saw my hands and they were rusty
they were the hands that tasted the prize.
they were hungry and the would not stop.
everything made sense. everything was logical. everything was justified.
my heart was hallowed with flames of justice.
my spine, thickened with battle scars.
then, alone in the park, when no one wanted
me, I stared at the bricked wall, bouncing off the warm orange sunset light with shades of
bare tree branches,
and I realized:
I used to be soft.
I used to have feelings.
I used to cry for the mother bird.
when I stop, will I ever lay my head again
to the soft songs in the warmth and beauty?
will I be forgiven?
will I know it was worth it at the end?
I walked back from the park
and the darkness fell
but that light in my eyes wouldn’t go away.
perhaps it is the beginning of everything after all.
11.15.2021
Ralph with Coffee 