Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Beyond the farthest house
a fifth of an oval sun

struggles through the remnants
of Hwangsa season.

While Lynne presses
alternating notes to compose

an eight-year-old’s song,
broken glass ricochets

along the inside of a vacuum
hose. Mijung coughs:

the refrigerator, she says,
must be purged

of rotting lettuce and spoiled
Camembert. Not now.

Now, come here and listen:
“Beyond the farthest . . . .”

First impression-- A day in the life, on the edge of the desert, an inward moment looking outward.

Enjoyed.

That works for me.

"Hwangsa" is usually translated as yellow dust. The sands from the the Gobi desert are blown onto Korea and Jejudo by, I think, Siberian winds. Sometimes, they have to close down the airports.

And everybody seems to cough.