Sunday, October 26, 2008


In the mornings we expelled our bad spirits.  They come in sleep, spread thinly in our mouths.  There is a towel hanging on our bedpost, it is always there.  It sags pretty.  I gave him one end of the towel and held onto the other, the corners tugged between us.  Held our breathe-twelve inches back.  We whispered the bad spirits into the towel, caught them in the folds.  The stubborn ones hang onto the uvula and we roll breathe from our throats to coerce them out.  We are not forceful.  The malicious ones hide under our tongues.  The corners are brought together.  The movement must be quick.  And with our collective four hands, pinched and touching only at enamel, we empty the towel out the window.  The bad spirits slide against glass, no longer trying.
They let us be.  

Saehee Cho
2008, October 26

Thursday, October 23, 2008

refrain. -nr

It’s hard to write when you don’t know for what purpose.

We can lie to each other, Bam! a lie. whispy, a whispy lie, too.

I went to a reading once where the performer recited a long poem from memory about gay domestic abuse. The same string of words were repeated, as though it were the refrain in a song. She said bam so loud, I felt myself frightened. Every time the narrator hit her girlfriend, she followed it with an apology. But after third attack, even I braced myself for the next bam in her poem, shouted into the mic.

Knowing of a different culture. Seeing beyond yourself. Why see beyond yourself? Why see beyond yourself and your needs? I do not understand this yet. If chaos is purposeful.

Friday, October 10, 2008


All the graphs on the television screen are diving downward, the newscasters are telling their viewers between the commercials: that it is all coming to a head. The experts agree. People pop up and say: Yes, this looks quite bad, The worst this generation has ever seen, Terrible, really, for everyone, This will affect school children and children yet to be born, When this happened 79 years ago, in October, people flung their bodies from the highest buildings in New York City because they couldn’t bear the thought. Hey, Doc, says a waiter as he enters the kitchen, table six is yours. He enters the dining area to find the conversation is still going, the people all smile and toast and sip and shovel food into their mouths, and they laugh and laugh and laugh.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008


is a day is a day is a day

can time be

-tween time


but loss of diversion

if i had passion

i would rally

for your cause.

and yours, and yours


i'd be there

in it.

who wants a cure

for boredom?



Just the women: CAREFUL!


for hours.

I return home
and see the dog.
there is no tension between

she gnaws on raw hide sticks

and i watch her.