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some of many
Fourth Time’s a Charm
Let me tell you a secret
1 I was like you once
2 then I took two steps away
3 and found myself three miles far
4 “Found myself” haha! floating in the fourth dimension
3 I traveled through Trinity’s aurora and pushed through her womb Slime
Fresh Air Here Now
2 Two lives I’ve lived
1 Once I resurrected
Internal Monologue, 3:33 AM
it’s ok because
i love what i do
i love what i do
do i love
what i do ?
i do ?
i love what i do
My Greatest Vice
August 14, 2019
The strangest thing I ever told a stranger was my greatest vice
Honesty means sadness and it is my flash of light
Fall back into place, stitch of yellow, stroke of dye
Tender is the night of a broken past
Dry your eyes when the moon takes flight
Wide eyed girl, I’m on your side
May 20, 2019
I wonder why it is I try so hard
To make sense of nonsense, it’s quite bizarre
You tell me, “This way!” but the road is barred
I travel till my knees bleed, so red with scars
Why is it we seek, beloved seeker?
What pot of gold or dreaded dust awaits?
Journey aches, my long bones and death concur
I just hope lights shine bright at heaven’s gates
But in case “heaven,” like clouds, is mere air
I wonder what drives us on earth, so bare
Clouds lend me dreams, mist-full Angels, I swear
In these dreams I seek, in celestial stare
A worried toad wept while leaping about
Croaking, “why must she change?” in plaguing doubt
“Metamorphosis, must it strike the pure?
Fleeting youth once safe in sphere’s allure”
Small town princess with a pending About
Tadpole daughter to grown woman, she sprout
Parted from mother to far away land
Lonely as her upstream journey grew grand
Offbeat souls crossed paths, and she fell in love
Worries flew out the brain, up off above
Together they brewed a hot steamy stew
In the fat cauldron of a stinky shoe
But in it ma-toad swam, a twist unplanned…
May 1, 2019
a toad sat in my stew as i steadily lifted the heat higher hotter faster stronger
the toad was my mother and she was so bothered so i told toad mother
there sits a faceless prince/ss at the end of this dinner and s/he’s a real charmer
she thinks i’m guilty of this crime
i know i’m guilty and sublime
The Orange Sphere
March 14, 2019
So bright was dusk before the shadows stretched.
Long, tall, and spindly creeping creatures roamed.
Like snakes but fragile, daddy long-legs crawled.
You said to “listen to the wind blow strong–”
to “watch the sunrise,” but down came the night.
I’ve sought and tried to smash the orange sphere.
I hoped for sun but light revealed all pores.
What once was perfect sphere of humble gold
laid down was, lopsided, a single frown.
An airy Cheeto Puff I devoured whole.
a baton in a race i used to know
February 22, 2019
king passed me the question,
"what’s your passion today?"
i don’t know why me so candidly replied,
“i don’t know why, nothing, today.”
the truth escaped me
and the question swam away to evade the minds of others,
a baton handed off
with a scoff in a race i used to know.
passion sought fervor,
and honesty made her yawn.
other number one answered, “the cyclical nature
of video games. the rapture of playing, dying, reincarnating…
you must improve because the game
always remains the same.”
other number two said, “blah blah
music blah blah” ah-ha.
and i thought, “yes, sir
there are things i adore,
others i abhor,
and many tunes i’d fall
feeble and frail without,
but this thing called passion
is another beast.”
an obsession made of desperation,
smothered in adoration, decadent with affection
that indoor fig tree you swivel an inch a week
swung soft and slow towards the sunlight.
the one that still grows
after all the others you over-watered and drowned.
the she you exert all your strength to escape
but tied you stay, perturbed and bound.
swim away, baby, a shark’s sniffed your cycle, and he’s coming.
pump your fists, darling, elbows at ninety.
mercury slips your balance but get up, and run,
the Terminator, he’s sprinting, he’s coming.
but these jaws that shred flesh and
the limbs that shed bullets are my lovers.
so yes no today, i feel no pain, no wildfire
trailblazing through all that is and will be no more.
i feel a distant warmth from a campfire of my youth,
cozy with mallows and my father.
i sit, still damaged from last spring
when fervor tore through me and left me splayed
with bruises under my eyes, holes in my fingers, and blood,
holy and divine, splattered in its wake.
today, i feed and i await
her fated return.
February 28, 2019
i fell in love with the me you showed me three steps before you fell behind
outgrowing the soil the hemisphere into the heavens i fly
so catch my kiss as i wave goodbye
love me tender, love me sweet through time
as the days roll by
tell me what love is
i didn’t ask how many partners you’ve had i asked how many lovers you’ve loved
tell me where love is
not who you’re beside but who resides inside
tell her what love is
it’s ok, your body was never a wonderland, she can have it
tell her where love is
in the texts and memories downloaded forever felt unseen
i loved you i love you i loathed you i loathe you i loved you i love you i loved you
smell me forever, coco in your nose (not that kind) forever
February 14, 2019
Under the fluorescent lights, she was met by her friend
with yellow hair so kinky, she salivated for a curly fry.
Jack In The Box.
She kissed her right cheek, stepped back to exchange words of embrace,
and let her eyes wander over her face.
Turns out, this Fry was salty.
The cold lights cast shadows on each crunchy makeup powder granule.
She saw every stray eyebrow hair unplucked in the too-bright lights and thought, how human.
Without intention, she accepted each ‘flaw’ instantly as a tasty treat, how interesting.
Platonic soul sister love, how powerful.
But in this friend she saw her foe.
Polluted thoughts clouded her mind and blocked her vision, and in she went!
Curly Fry’s lips kept moving but Squid Hair was blind! Deaf! Elsewhere, now,
fixated on her own pulsating chin,
on the cystic pimple she squeezed too soon.
If a pimple ready to pop is pus formed by oil called sebum, dead skin cells, and bacteria
ready to break through the surface,
this juicy papa was a closeted lesbian grandma. In too deep.
One who has peeked a gaze out the window, but never her whole head,
let alone her whole body. I mean, oh my!
Perhaps she has danced amongst the fairies during dawn and dusk,
but that was dancing, not leaving.
She had been shoved by lovers past, too soon!
Squeezed too hard and in she went!
Deeper, under the surface.
Fat with pus.
Crimson in flavor.
Uncomfortable to touch.
Squeeze soft and out it’ll pop, when grandma’s ready.
For now, change your bulbs to soft whites, papa.
The Smooth Dunes
Mascara perfectly cocoons each of her lashes. Long, dark, and sexy.
Penelope glimmers in the disco lights.
Flashes of silver bounce off her glazed over eyes, her crimson lip gloss that’s truly, as they say, poppin’,
and the silver earrings that frame her chiseled face. Tits perky, she’s the belle of the ball.
Coated with capitalist flesh (liquid foundation), her painted pimples remind him of the sand dunes of Morocco.
Patrick has always preferred the dunes to the Canyons, anyway. All is well.
Short, but still dark and handsome, he swings her ‘round left and she spins on her pointed heel
with her head whipped back in a giddy cackle. Penelope is enamored and they both know, he’s a lucky man.
He goes in for the kiss and Penelope loses herself, an animal unleashed.
Perfect Penelope fell off two martini’s and five twirls ago.
She tangles her fingers in his hair and lets him swallow her whole.
She peels her lips off his five songs later in a frenzy, but it’s too late.
How could she !
How could she kiss !
How could she kiss someone !
How could she kiss someone with stubble!
The smooth dunes were gone, wiped away in streaks.
Patrick had been hiking down the Grand Canyon, after all.
The disco flashed red. Red! RED! and she fled.
The Cum Up
December 1, 2018
the worst he did was misunderstand me
the damage you inflicted was understand and mishandle me
massaged with sweet words to derail me
cloud and coddle me
share the same flesh we
my body aches, why?
how old am i?
who? ah, yes, i!
twenty-nearly-seven pounds of rice atop me
seven-hundred eighty-three (comma) thousand grains of rice, pressing down upon me
a one-nearly-million giant load atop me
fetch me a paper towel, ick! it sticks up on me!
body buried, shall i eat my way out
to the top? climb on top? oh-k!
let me rise, let me cum, up!
to the heights of your fantasy
tits ass ass ass, she
ass tittie tits titties, seek
plenty, i am, me
female born you yellow look
female i claim yellow wi am
masculine your gaze soft my body you assess
ah, unfiltered jargon, i digress
lift your fucking gaze off me
is what i mean to express
infinity beyond a crack
November 27, 2018
i smiled and i lied
i cracked and i cried
sour gusher * i
squeeze gently, you
ooze out, i want to know
taste good, do i?
fishbowl * i
poke softly, you
topple over, i try to fly
shatter on the pavement, but i
angelfish * i
swim through a crack, i
plunge one-thousand feet every thirteen split-seconds, i
smell limbo’s hopeful tik tok-ing demise, i
taste hell’s blood orange stained cries, i
carry heaven in my belly, as i
freefall through infinity and beyond, there
i peer into god’s eyes, bright, where
i smile and i cry
igloo in the clouds
November 19, 2018
An ice cube held sacred in the library that surrounds me
I keep you frozen in my rememory here in the fourth dimension
But it’s time to fly
grounded now peaceful on the cloudtops
Catch me as I’d catch you should I fall
Til then find fire
in flickering lights
amidst sweltering nights
Peel Me like One of Your French Onions
November 15, 2018
Peel 11 she heard pleasure
Peel 3 moist green
Peel 7 sea-salt fury
Peel 15 alas, dinner was served
She wept as she prepared a meal for her husband
On the menu: Onion Soup
Peel 9 she saw whimsy
Peel 1 she felt rain
Peel 4 orgasmic bliss
Peel 11 sleepy hollow
( for her wife:
November 13, 2018
I’ve skinned her from nipple to toe
Shed one layer of pain and three layers of shame
four layers of vapid fame
Made new for me and she and maybe You
Back again where the old is new
where the mold’s long steeped
in viper’s stew
November 9, 2018
mama squeezes her sponge, excalibur
real pure, drip drop
floodgates opened, now, it’s pouring
scoop me up, mama, i’m drowning!
close your eyes crack your jaw, child, it’s snowing!
melt on her tongue and drip down her throat
real cold, drip drop
catch ‘em all, mama tells me
no questions! blind faith! he tells me
take communion! repent! she tells me
it’s dry here where the sun warms my face, mama
where, you say, mama?
here where it’s bright, mama!
look, i’m dancing, mama!
see, i’m laughing, mama
i’m happy, mama
November 7, 2018
teach me how to dance through air like you do, baby
you float across the breeze of my memory that sticks thick like molasses, baby
all my strength exerted is(n’t) shown in (invisible) slow-mo, baby
you smile as you twirl and i admire you, baby
keep doing you but take me with you, baby
leave me but stay close to me, baby
leave forever stay near never forever, baby
keep you high talk you down is what i do, baby
mama’s hand keeps me low in slo-mo-lasses, baby
can’t you see your fresh waters are my shark-filled oceans, baby?
queries reside as bricks in my chest, baby
these stones evaporate and spread like poison, baby
they infiltrate me and reach you as resentment, baby
so listen less and feel me, yes, baby
yesterday not today tomorrow but maybe one day, i’m yours, baby
November 2, 2018
“open your lips and twirl your tongue for me, baby”
no, i fastened a chastity belt on my mouth, “baby”
locked it up tight so lift your pleas off me, quick!, “baby”
mine it’s mine it’s mine mine mine
close your ears shut your eyes speak no more to me, “baby”
talk no more while you touch me, “baby”
“baby baby baby” i’m not your baby
“baby baby baby” i’m not yours, “baby”
October 17, 2018
A utopia that does not exist
Euphoria that sighs in bliss
Outside the hemisphere
Inside the floating pollen you
inhale and sneeze Out
Dwelling for the taking
Do You Know the Muffin Man?
October 6, 2018
listen up, prick
i don’t know who you think you are
you think you are
i know who you think you are
i know who you are
i think you are
prick you are
September 17, 2018
She’s looking up
Ready to catch life’s tears
sugar plum trinkets wrapped in splendor brighter
than Floyd’s crystal prism
up Up ahead
DINE WITH ME
April 12, 2018
i invite you in! walk through the gelatin!
pull up a chair see past the iris
sit by me! dance with me!
you’re squeamish! you’re giddy!
come, take my hand i’ll feed your belly
dumplings and beer can you hear me?
mandu and soju! do you feel me?
100% this 1000% that
April 12, 2018
I 오예린 was born in Seoul in palindromic 1991 with dual citizenship during
my parents’ Christmas vacation who resided in Texas, where I was raised.
Did you catch that? Me neither.
Scrub me down with an exfoliating hydro towel, mom, I missed a spot.
Scrub me, scrub my yellow skin, scrub it clean.
After twenty-two years of choosing to swim in a sea of white hegemony, I realized Korean culture is beautiful.
Seeking roots, I retraced my steps back to my “homeland” only to find “my home land” didn’t exist.
The Korea I know is through my mother’s native tongue and the Korean food she cooks for us on Texas soil.
I can neither claim heritage to Korea as an American nor can I pledge allegiance to America as a Korean, but they’re both mine.
I stand on uneven ground, grounded.
Hear me speak with a mouthful of dumplings, from here.
the me between my knees and my toes loses strength when I recall a specific something
Like the tingles I get before I go on stage, and by stage
I mean a room the first time I speak in a brand new space filled with
new eyeballs, new cordial smiles On Me Prickly
I mean a table
the first time I break bread with a new someone, and by bread
I mean whiskey
I mean a lapse,
when I worry I fucked up the appropriate amount of eye contact by
a breath too long
In the Sky on the Screen circa Sunset
If once I sat in you, a plane in the sky
Week 2, you were just a James Turrell room
Week 5, toxic pollution
Week 8, a star shrouded by clouds
Week 9, a sunset atop the sand of Jacob Riis
in a photo in my hand
I zoom out with a pinch
It’s fleeting, sporadic,
consistent, and daily
It hits me for a moment, a few minutes at a time
till I pull myself together
that piece There, this link Here Time Stretches
I grip my hand around a wider distraction this time
Appeased for a longer moment a few hours at a time
mother 엄마 umma
brother 오빠 oppa
father 아빠 appa
grandma 할머니 halmuhnee
uncle 삼춘 samchoon
aunt 이모 emo
Galleria Mall. Dallas, Texas.
My widowed umma promised to take me shopping.
I was in middle school [caught between a false perception of who I was and lofty
aesthetics around who I wanted to be] enveloped in a feeling of disbelonging.
My emo was over, my oppa was out.
I can’t remember what we had for dinner that night– surely something Korean followed by the staple question,
“Should I cut some fruit?” and Korean pears.
The pop of juice flowing as I crunched down on granules, I remember.
We got in the car and I sat, unacknowledged, while my umma and emo’s
stream of Korean chatter never stopped to catch a breath.
We pulled into the cement 6 level parking garage, sandwiched between metal numbers and mundane colour.
Weaving through racks of clothing atop marble tiles, I trailed behind them as umma led the way to My destination.
My request for them to speak in English went unheard.
I tailgated and swerved off then finally (sur)passed them em barrassed and angered by
their incessant Korean amidst an otherwise sea of White noise.
I lost them and returned ready with shame and apology only to find, they never noticed I was gone.
my mom showed you pictures of her kids
she said her daughter got a brand new report card
and all I got was a brand new sports car
O O O OO
O O O WHO
O O OO
mom cracked a joke, all the kids laughed
but i couldn’t hear her all the way in first class
bad enough that I showed up late
i had to leave before they even cut the cake
welCome to heartbreak
when do we live when do we remember
when do we breathe
and when do we swallow
two roads diverge at this crossroads
there are no more inches to inch
no more strawberry-flavored time to spread
mom cracked a joke, all the kids laughed
but i couldn’t hear her all the way in ‘first class’
i’d like to find balance, one in which i can be true
i can love whomever
i can create whatever
i love you, but
i love pocha, also
i love liquid