The beautiful boy with rain in his voice
could do it. Put it all into three lines.
Then he would sing it, and pieces
of mystery would suddenly shift,
reveal themselves over guitar strings.
So, too, should the poet be able. Call
up Orpheus, make him do his little jig
for you. Three lines to sum up your life.
Your whole world through your back
window. Grind of the 11 Bus going by.
That hour in the morning when the left
foot of a dream steps into your daylight.
But what they really want is Korea, what
it means to you.
Easier to describe wind
down a hallway. How it marries the dark
smell of nighttime, the yellow purr of your
desk lamp. There. There is place in that
and meaning. Those words alone must do.
~ from The Heart of All That Is: Reflections on Home
(Holy Cow Press, 2013)
