Gloria Kim

I long for long and many days
of length and time,
all told,
until some distant autumn day
...

Somersault of stars
and glittering stream,
the Pleiades -
cheering bright kin
...

Wandering wonderments,
sometimes lost
sometimes awonder,
meandering but purposive,
...

I put in seeds today - acorns
from trees in the neighborhood:
black oak, red oak, willow oak, pin oak.
Solid names for solid trees, fifty years and growing.
...

Desiccate, not dead.
A giant's vast hot canopy
whose simmering shimmering horizon
bellies up boulder silhouettes
...

Now all the costumes of the day are shed
and put away in closets, bureaus, drawers.
Outside the snow blows round and up and down,
but nothing like the race of storms inside.
...

Journeyman, apprentice, what's a guild after all
but something of a nest
where fledglings learn even from mutual jostling:
squawking aloud to, at and for each other,
...

To freely be a fool and truly free -
most feared at heart yet secretly desired.
I keep it closely cupped up next to me
and glimpse at it in swift and furtive peeks,
...

It feels instinctive,
like a birthing -
groaning push, sweating duress
sputtering sphinctered words.
...

Hope pin-pricked goes spiraling down
whistling in shock of the sudden wound.
A flabby balloon, it falls from the sky
plummeting gravelly real
...

A world of things I weave within my home,
a tapestry of comforts and delights,
a private interweaving of the outside
coming in, the inside
...

If algae made Stonehenge
turn orange,

the change
...

My computer died today
after eight years of work and play.
Much of me was saved in RAM -
all of it was lost today.
...

Shunning Egypt, Egypt-born, a generation wanes,
chained forever to the past by memory and pain -
a wandering tribe, freed unfree to follow forty years
one giant glowing pillar through the sands.
...

Through ancient currents and oceans' hurricanes
I have weathered storms and swells knowing I am held
by thoughtful anchors I have made:
chains of iron, Monitors and Merrimacs.
...

Robust digger-man mining for precious,
you work by ruddy light shed from the heart
down here in the dark, in the depths, some call it hell.
You work by ruddy instinct.
...

Skin of lamb pummeled smooth, papyrus peel glued in mystery,
other papers - sheaves of rice, leaves of wood,
I have found them perfectly preserved to the eye
in pictograms accessible, not Greek or hieroglyphic.
...

He added them up to make a point -
the hours of billable time we'd spent
he, making a living professing relationship -
six hundred hours in over six years
...

I do love a watermelon-
so I ate a quartermelon.
...

Winter gray the light of day,
winter-gray snow-melt still on the ground
drawn the winter, long the week,
Monday-gray through Saturday.
...