A Poet and His Writing

A Poet and His Writing
Yong Wan Choi 07.27.08

Living, unable to bear it any longer,
I swept my writing into a bundle and hung it up

Staring at it, I clench my fist
and pummel it

Then
I untie the sagging string
and toss and turn and cry alone
door shut, sobbing aloud

I tie it up again, look and look again,
pat it gently

After a long while
a fragrant liquid flows from the bundle of writing

A brief and potent poison, you see

The wretched world drinks it and falls into a fever
and its aching wounds slowly begin to heal