Lucid Waking

Lucid Waking
from Eve
by Annie Finch

Once I wanted the whole dawn not to let me
sleep. One morning, then, I awoke and watched as
waking woke me, came slipping up through half-light
crying softly, a cat leaving her corner,
stretching, tall in the new gray air of morning,
raising paws much too high. She came slow-stepping
down the hallway to crouch, to call, to answer
through the door, making still and slow the dawning
once so bird ridden --and the sun, the curtains--

Seoul

while i was there in 2001, i had been wandering around Gyeongbokgung Palace and happened upon a film crew shooting (what my friend annie who lives in seoul tells me was) a popular korean soap opera.

the city was so grey then, and large parts of the palace were under construction, so it was great to participate in a little colorful fantasy from another time in korea.

[btw, know anyone who wants to buy images to put up on their walls? need to start making a real income! send them my links:]
http://www.paulwhkan.com/orderprints/index.html

the way they were

[btw, linda wrote another beautiful journal entry today.]

"When I was younger, I used to think of my parents as just my parents. They were sort of one-dimensional. They were the ones who put the clothes on my back and a roof over my head. The ones whose arms i ran into whenever I was sad, who would comfort me when I was sick. I never really thought of my parents as "real people," with aspirations and perhaps even unfulfilled dreams from their younger days."

TWO IN THE MOON

TWO IN THE MOON
from Mortal World (1995)
by Deborah Pope

I saw it, too, you know,
that full, high winter
moon you said you meant
to tell me of, stood
by the cold, dark glass
at two in the morning,
after you had gone,
watching it wash the porch
in light so clear

and tangible it made
the rest of the world
seem blank and indistinct,
this house a blur, its trees
mere brushwork,
and only itself seem true,
even the porch chairs
held their thin arms
out to it, pure, fulfilled.

How real and unreal it was,
as we were through that
whole, long sliding dream,
touching and untouched,
believing we were new,
moving in the silvered wind,
without map, without references,
all we knew reversed,
as that light, at once
covering and cruel.