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ACUITY
Acuity is such a strange word,sharp on the tongue andin meaning, but also a markof what once was, what willnever be again, replaced perhapsby a visual vacuity, comfortableword, no sharp edges, vagueimages floating behind a gauzeseeping slowly into a scrim,knowing the stage will soonenough go dark, despitethe ever brighter lighting.But replaced perhaps byever greater auditory…
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CECI N’EST PAS
This morning the skyis a painting by Magritteas it is most days, no titleCeci n’est pas un ciel. The birds rise fromthe wetland as Escherwould imagine them,the small wetlandonce a place thatmight be painted byMonet on a day whenhe cared nothingfor water lillies, but nowa jungle of Gauguin. We wait for the returnof the flocks…
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GOOD DAY (GOODNIGHT)
Every morning we are able, we go outon the lanai and have our fruit bowlsthen our cappuccinos with toastfrom her homemade sourdoughwhole wheat bread, and watchcountless birds fly outof the wetland that abuts our yard.The cat is always awaitingour arrival, usually sleepingon one of our oak rockers.She will look up at us, yawnand when we…
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YOU ARE INVITED
I have to compliment you,after all you ignored mefor four years in high school,condemned me to the outcasts,the geeks, the losers, the barelytolerated and then only whenthe Headmaster was watching. I didn’t go to your parties,no one without an invitationever dared, was left to theclubs no one wanted to join,but I have to say I…
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CEILI
He liked nothing more than slipping out the back of the Ritz Carlton and heading down Nonhyeon-ro, more alley than street, past the small bulgogi restaurant, and winding his way to Gangnam-daero 106, finally arriving on the great avenue, Gangnam-daero. It was buzzing with life at all hours, but in the early evening the Virgin…
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SEOUL
The Han river, gray to greenhinting at mud, but roiledthis day, is a keloid scaracross the torso of Seoul,its suture bridges strugglingto hold the halves together. Soon it will be dark, the Hanthen a no-man’s land, separatingthe two Seouls, each certainit is its own whole, neitherlooking north to an alwaysforeboding step-sibling.
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AFTERLIFE
In the farthest reachesof the afterlife, the old mengather each day, althoughday and night are meaninglessto them, just assignedfor purposes of the writer. The Buddha recites sutrashoping the others willbe in the moment with him,while Hillel smiles, standson one foot and dreamsof a lean pastrami on ryewith a slice of half sour. Christ muses on…
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EMERGENT
When I least expect it, onemay unfurl wings and liftinto a clouded sky searchingfor the hidden sun, or it may wander off, a childmomentarily free of parentsoff to discover the real world, or it may retreat back intothe pen, unwilling to be seen,objecting to its misuse, or it may sit in front of the TVand…

