Marcus Slease

Bongeun-sa (temple)

stradling my cheribum
in this paradise of cloudy hours
one foot in the throne
a whip not visible
cut skin is the kiss
the whale brought
to scale
rooted in the
I wanted to look
Irish but Korea
my face

Flying Bird Teahouse (Insadong)

I blustered
the English
we made
anxious together
the organ replaced
the pom-pom
the icebox contained
the heart
the sheets were
we mumbled into
silk hankies
life is not
a double feature
the sun on my
finches the feathers
in my cup
less plumbers
many electricians
an evening performance
of fruit sellers


in Hongdae back
at the bungalow
we rubbed our
metal kingdoms
a little night music
puddles of puke
in cracked cement
bonfire in the park
with mosh pits
with serious heat
on the cracked
trains of nations
and where and why
my lips
have kissed
introduced to drift
& wrote
under sanctimonious