A breakthrough, or just a tired mind; my judgement, uncertainly certain. How easy, it seems to come to some; I struggle to find, the edge of possible. But sometimes, I am smacked by something hard; and I know at last, intuition. #sijo

The airplane, leaves tomorrow; I say it, but my heart denies. Between fears, of complications; little dreams flit, of a cancellation. I’ll adapt, and soon come again; but that will be, a different time. #sijo

The river laughs, resplendent with rain; its droughty whispers, a thing of June. July finds, new sand on the walkways; as the river shares, its thunderous mirth. I am swept, into torrential identity; and we flow merry, towards our seas. #sijo

The rain hums, at our windowsill; blanketing the room, in thick-running rhythm. She sings, half-under her breath; and in soft ripples, the water flows clear. The duet, raises islands from the tropic sea; and my silence breathes, the ocean breeze. #sijo

Not knowing, the mind of God; true goodness, remains a guess. All we have, is what we want; which includes, our desires for others. To balance, our drives is no mean feat; and thus we turn, to wisdom. #sijo

This steel sky, holds apart the rains; while we bog in damp, invisibly boiling. The wind tears, brief rents of cool; and my heart billows, with exhilaration. My photo, shows naught but upturned hair; for who can capture, true freedom? #sijo

Rotten bulb, wilted before bloom; the could-haves, lost in the dids. Salmon run, the ones that fall short; only few succeed, against the odds. Rising rent, and dwindling savings; do I still remain, impractical? #sijo

News spotlights, vibrant outcomes; leaving to shadows, the mottled system. The crowds chants, today’s dueling needs; tomorrow’s problems, but softly whispered. In winter, the wise maintain their homes; pity to burn them, for a night’s warmth. #sijo

An echo, in the faces; a visit, with her relatives. On the street, more distant cousins pass; iridescent fish, in one gene pool. The plain fact, of reincarnation; ancient features, return my gaze. #sijo

My body, is a radio; and my soul, the transmission. When I fall, into silence; do not think, the signal gone. Listen close, in other places; and hear my voice, ever there. #sijo

Only rain, in the forecast; “Sunday”, becomes a misnomer. “Thursday” fairly, has ties to lightning; those seem likely, to be upheld. Ironic, that today was a dry “Wednesday”; which here is named for, the water star. #sijo

The river, replied to my feet; noting each step, changed the flow forever. The forest, replied to my legs; stating I too, walked a woodland creature. The heavens, sent me stumbling forwards; for I like all things, am their message. #sijo

History, a finger trap; geography, a pathless maze. I idle, in half-shaped facts; trying to plow, the muds of place. We are stuck, in the grand overlap; and the harvest grows, thick with haze. #sijo

Palace roofs, and hidden gardens; now are ruled, by birds alone. Ancient statues, have become highways; for ever-marching, empires of ants. The pond koi, can hardly note the revolution; the park staff feed them, just as before. #sijo

That fine art, of the possible; must be practiced, as an instrument. Embarrassing, the loud toots of failure; barely music, after countless tries. Yet the gain, of this humiliation; is a chance to make, the world sing. #sijo

The night sky, a purple road; a temperate hum, on the dark breeze. All the windows, have become stars; beauty blooming, from day-shy brick. I have walked, these streets as a blind man; this twilit vision, my first true sight. #sijo

Sliding, in these dreams of sound; what am I, on today’s today? Writing you, from the nowhere place; why do I weep, at songs long gone? Creeping out, of the shadows’ round; I fear the half, that dreams unbound. #sijo

The quiet, is still a sound; the tears, are still a feeling. That miracle, experience; abandons no one, in this long life. How the weight, of existence presses; how the bearing cries, we are real. #sijo

Charioteer, with tale forgotten; where are your horses, and what are your wheels? Without form, identity yet holds; you are still the job, you no longer do. You were old, when the old were young; do even the stars, recall your name? #sijo

Losing track, of work-planned time; we laugh our way, towards sunset. Surely, I have just sat down; yet the clock proclaims, a longer interval. Between chats, I find my tasks complete; the small miracles, friends make work. #sijo

Rain will come, and break this drought; the rivers raised, from their parched lines. Rain will come, and green the brown; flowers unwilting, in their sun-scorched beds. Rain will come, and drown the now to new; summer baptism, of promised floods. #sijo

With a face, she wasn’t born with; a young woman, melts into the crowd. I touch mine, strangely aware; I no longer look, like my baby pictures. Surgery, is not the only changer of looks; the older sense, of “plastic”. #sijo

Stumbling, to reach out my hand; I find we are all, grasping fingers. The edge, is everywhere we are; and in my outstretch, I am the void. I tumble, broken for and by truth; and the floor greets me, my own palm. #sijo

Melody, hides the lyrics; words transfigured, in structured chords. If verbiage, holds such meaning; why is it music, that holds our attention? Waves travel, on a deeper ocean; yet no one wonders, which one we hear. #sijo

One hand ticks, in subway stops; yet another, in rounds of drinks. Each footstep, marks a second; in the countdown, of today’s stroll. Morning moon, greets my evening return; complete rotation, around my clock. #sijo

Shower heat, not reaching full; thermostat stuck, at mildly warm. Family texts, coming in as I wash; I blink away soap, as I answer. These complaints, wash away with my dirt; as the water cleans, my perception. #sijo

Throwing out, the old bouquet; like burying, a recent memory. Rotten stems, clash with still-bright petals; the smell and flies, snickering their win. In a book, I press a few examples; hoping to find them, dry with time. #sijo

Frustration, of a well-spent day; not enough time, for everything. I am rich, in things worth doing; yet I feel poor, in time to do them. The ants laugh, at this quasi-eternal “poor man”; what does he know, of short time? #sijo

Missionary, on the evening street; hands me cookies, attached to a pamphlet. She asks me, if I know Jesus; “you’ll go to heaven, if you believe in him.” I recall, the twenties of Matthew 7; I’m not sure I know, her Jesus. #sijo

In your country, “pija” is high cuisine; in mine, “pizza” is common fare. We dine out, on “sushi rolls”; while your kids, carry “kimbap” to school. I guess food, is neither high nor low; save as the taster, decides it. #sijo