Replying to Chon, Serving the 4th Grade of Government by Hyesim

You went to the castle markets, and I to the sea-blue mountain— no matter how briefly we met, there was no disharmony. The earthly life of temples and cities has both black nights and bright days— since you think like me, no one should blame you for having my old monk’s face. Poetry of Hyesim Translated by: Ian Haight Image by: Anurag Agnihotri

The Red Rock by C. Dylan Bassett

         This is what I call home: dust-burnt dirt, a rose of sandstone and bone but a rose in slow blossom.          Here the space is Russian-blank (a God-great blow drier), where milk-sour ooze belly-drips from thorns and blown-brown thistles. Here I find hiding: the grass-coddled Crossings, wind- slapped & dry: The atmosphere, a cacophonous-croon clucking itself to a dun thrum.          From Lone Mountain…

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