SEOUL OF A NEW MACHINE

I

Apartment buildings
sprout, neat orderly,
so many headstones
in a cemetery marking
the gravesite of
ancient rural culture.

II

A slow morning
in Itaewon,
for you special deal
finest leather,
best quality gems,
but I prefer
precipitously plunging
prices of Rollex’s
last chance, $6.

III

Apartment building faces
studded with small
satellite dishes
perched carefully
on tiny balconies,
aimed skyward
breaking impenetrable
borders, offering shows
not yet sucked
clean of life,
What’s the frequency
Kenneth?

IV

In the Duty Free Shop
at Walker Hill
clothing and cosmetics
are quoted in dollars,
alcohol in yen.

ALL MANNER OF THINGS

Outside Itaewon she leans
perpetually forward as though
straining against the gales of life.
Her cane beats a tattoo
on the pavement, as she
drives her bent frame to the bus.
Nearing the door a young man
bustles by, receiving her cane
across his shin for his indiscretion.

Assuming her seat, as though
a throne, she leans her scepter
between her knees, and receives
the supplication of the young man
who approaches with a limp
to honor his elders and seek
absolution from a momentary lapse.
The old man, in hanbok, smiles,
the bus begins its imperceptible crawl
toward the Han, a small raft
lost in the rush hour sea.