Here are several of the poems included in this book, ones that I feel best represent it as a whole. If you would like to read more, please contact me and I can arrange to send you a copy of this book or any others. Faces in the Mirror is my second book of poetry, one that I wrote during my undergraduate years. It marks the transition from adolescence to adulthood, and shows how my writing evolved through education, practice, and new inspiration.

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THE RUMINANT ASTRONAUT

The sun is brighter than it ever was,
and the Earth can fit inside my hand.
My fingers surround it and it radiates
Like the moon once did from my
Bedroom as I sat at my desk and
Bled the pen.

No more windows or desks here,
Walls or atmospheres, for I am on
The inside looking out on a past life of
Words and sounds and music,
Of block parties with childhood friends,
Squirt-gun fights and drying off on
The driveway beneath the sun that
Glows here now in its unequivocal
Glory: an image of God himself
Engulfed in dark matter,
And I drift towards the light in
Soundless space.

I hope to be awakened when
I get there, to be swallowed up in
God’s glory and embrace the warmth
That dies on its journey to Earth.
Of only a small fraction of heat
That any of us has felt, I want the fire.

Now I am as close as I am
Far from you, far enough to pinpoint
The dot where you reside and to
Shout your name so that you’ll
Never hear, close enough to feel
The sun’s heat penetrating my skin.
As I remember your face and the
Smile that shone the first time we
Sat beside each other in those desks
With books of life before us,

I drift farther, and you grow smaller,
And the dark matter swallows
Me up in space.  Soon I will get
There, shed these shades of black,
And see God’s glory once
And for all.  And I will meet you
There inside His light.

4/22/2008

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METAMORPHOSIS OF MIND

What if I’m remembering
this moment ten years from
now, sitting on the bed,
watching a movie, now
recalling all movies I’ve seen
in different places.

Couches, beds, theaters, floors.
Nothing unusual, but memories.
And perhaps this moment
will be another I remember.

But I’m remembering it now,
ten years after as I watch
another movie in another place
that reminds me of one before.
Different bed, larger TV,
but the same in time,

like the past becoming future,
future, past, everything
together, like in God’s eyes.
And I remember

yesterday today,
today yesterday,

everything molded into one
eternal moment, and I’m young
in the body like a child,
mature in the mind like
a wise old man, with the
energy and spirit to act on it.

Together now, and I’m all
I’ve ever been,

awake, asleep, dreaming,
taking in the world, and
letting it go. Conscious now,
of everything,

waiting, thinking, will it all
come into focus, one image in
the eyes like it has in the mind,
with vision blurred.  Taking it all in,
the fluttering of each blade of
grass in gusts of wind,
with every ray of sun bouncing
off the tips in soothing motions.

All in one, with thoughts opened
like pores in the brain
saturated by setting.

Conscious now, of everything.

10/25/2007

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THE SUMMIT OF CANAAN

There’s this farmhouse
in the valley,
deep in the valley
between pastures and
passages far from
the main road,
far enough to reside
for centuries
and never be an
object for
the human eye.

All around,
fields without fences,
an anachronism
of the shepherd’s life,
a fleeting moment
in the minds
confined by city walls
cowed by the voice
of productivity.

The land is like
no other, its fields in
full bloom with so
many colors you
can’t keep track,
with so many flowers
you’d spend your life
naming them.

When I reach the
top of the hill
and look down,
I think, this is
how Moses must
have felt upon
reaching Canaan,
something
human hands
could never form
with all their might.

I know this house
because it’s mine,
in thoughts anyway,
a getaway I trek
to after days
of introspection,
a journey like
any other
with hills to climb
and night to face.

Yet when I arrive,
I feel the wind rush
over the hill
to greet me while
the birds fly low
to sing my name,
and the sun rises to
warm my skin.
I’m welcomed
by this farmhouse,
as I dream
within the city,
hoping, thinking,
no one will
find me here.

9/13/2007

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TWO DIMENSIONAL PARADISE

I imagine a land where
the sky shines red
like a passionate kiss
and vision comes in time
not distance
where I travel with
the mind through
flat fields on canvas

the corn stalks
sway in scarlet soil
and things never
end or begin
the sun rises and
rises again
never setting
the land yields its
fruits never spoiling

with my finger in the air
the wind blows
in every direction
the world much deeper
in two dimensions
its song much clearer
with fewer distinctions
and deeper I go
with closed eyes
opened wide
with fingers
clutching nothing
yet with a mind
grasping the soul

within this dreamscape
feelings are all
words are none
as I take a breath
without fear of death
and journey
through the valley
without a step
as deeper I go

the frequency
of the universe
reveals itself by
shaded trees
God shines through
every angle and degree
His name resounds
in the meadows
His face protrudes
from the hills
His voice is heard
in the passing breeze
like a song from
a childhood memory

my past life
grows distant
like a dream long ago
less real with
each minute in
amaranthine pastures
less palpable with
each smile from the sun
as reality is overcome
with perception
and empirical truths
are strangled by
divine romance

little by little
I forget from where
I came when a voice
calls my name
with esoteric words
thoughts transform
consciousness folds
collapses in fields
of fallen pedals
He calls over
and over again
come deeper

and I go
and I go

8/24/2007

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THE MINISTER OF COGNITION

Death is a friend

Who welcomes you

At birth.

Who opens

Your eyes

And closes them,

Who wakes you,

And puts you,

To sleep.

5/15/2008

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ESCAPE TO RECOLLECTION

Almost two years have passed since then.
My manager Kathy and I escape
into the office while the other sales associates
service frantic teenagers and housewives. 

We split a granola bar as we sit across
from each other at the metal desk. 
“I’m not doing anything tonight,”
she says, dropping her nametag to the floor.

We toss our radios on the desk
so no one will interrupt the frequent bites
of the granola bar that’s passed back
and forth between rapid dialogue.

“So?” she says. A smile curls up
on her face as the light bulb above
shines on her back and casts a shadow
across her sweet expressions.

Her eyes squint and look up at me
as her long black hair drapes over
her shoulders. “So what?”  I ask.
“How much more time will we waste?” 
“We close tonight, don’t we?” 

She sits back in her chair and twirls
her hair around her fingertips.
“What was it like growing up in Korea?”
She looks to me as words
quietly gather behind her lips.
“The toilets are disgusting.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” 

She finishes the granola bar and drops
the wrapper in the trash.
I lean back in the cold steel chair
and watch the time.  “Three more hours,”
I tell her.

She glances at the clock
and returns her eyes to me.
“This is fun,” she whispers.

With our radios off we slouch
in the folding chairs, smile within
fractions of false light, laugh like
children in a tree house,
pass time that never ends

10/15/2006

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THE ONE WHO GAVE LOVE

Your eyes glaze over with
blue poison.  Death has met
you here in the yard where we
once played. No smells.
No voices, only coolness
in the stagnant air.

He takes you with a cloak
waved over your eyes.
Die and be born again.
Die and let the soul escape
from the body that gave
only love and remember
that while the moonlight
catches my eye in the night
in the fields we walked

your impressions on this
path still remain like the
mark of lips across my
cheek.  Remember, and
I will too, the endless road,
the one less traveled,
leading to the top of the
city and down again where
you could see it all

like a dream reflected
from our minds onto
the blank page of the sky.
For when my feet tread the
ground yours once did,
we will be walking
together in two worlds
connected by memories.
Stay here along the path

as your eyes fill with blue
poison, and let yourself
go into the wind.
Be carried to the top of
the city, and know that
I will join you in my time,
when my eyes close with
tiredness.  There we’ll
be together at the top of
the hill, once again.

8/25/2007


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