Joseph Gunho Jang

    Alternatively, a cup of pour over. Oak trees, as far as you can see. Tickets for four to see The Nutcracker. White noise between piano chords. Alternatively, a stack of pancakes with large sausages and three eggs over medium (that perfect gooey center). Rice balls, tiger balm. A trip to a noodle shop in Pil-dong. The mechanics on the street fixing up old trucks. Alternatively, a rescued kitten with bright orange patches that lighten the room. A nursery of greenery, strong hanging leaves reaching, reaching. Alternatively, iodine tablets purifying water from rivers of the Smoky Mountains, the strain on my knees. The texture of dried mud on cargo shorts. Myriad cranes calling for each other. Choral magic. The patience of mountains. Alternatively, a private movie theater rental. Arranged floor lights. The spider that takes up the whole room in New York. Your hands on mine. That tender hold.


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