Yesterday, the word. Korea looms on the horizon,
perhaps a destination, perhaps the place that separates
us. This land of pagodas and pools and many, many
people living knee to knee I can only imagine in snippets,
noodles and neon bustle companion to temples and
deep green forest trails. I hesitate, better together
than apart, no matter how far the destination.
And on yesterday, too word of another poet's death,
W. D. Snodgrass, whose delightful "Heart's Needle"
helped bring me to a life of poetry. Another candle
burns out, the afterimage remains when I close my eyes.