Erudite
By Pel Doski, a first-year ETA in Docheon, Changnyeong Melissa Kukowski, “Victoria Harbour from The Peak,” Hong Kong I am the constant drip of ink into a dim pool of ideas. Pour me over the landscape sweetly. Let me soak in the sundry warren. Formlessly, Gently, Slowly I dip into valleys and climb hills. Each crevice gives me passing gems which I swallow and ponder for years. Watch me as I grow wise and tall, as I let caution evaporate like the sweet memory of fear. Resolve courses through malleable veins. The ones that bled in despair. Between mountains my journey begins. Under trees I sprout.
An Ode to the Yeonnam School Bus
By Jess McKay, a first-year ETA in Sejong Sarah Coldiron, “School Buses,” Mokpo Each morning, Its wheels trace a map of the city Only taking breaks when It sees small feet through the corners of Its eyes. Hana, Dul, Set,1 It counts in Its head, as It takes a big breath,1. One, two, three welcoming the footsteps aboard. Some of the footsteps follow bodies, Some bodies follow footsteps. It hums to match the parade of pitter patter. Together, they create a morning hymn, until they reach the school. On Its way, It passes a coffee shop that is still waking up, a city bus that is running late, and a crosswalk with a crooked spine. It does not have time to insa2 to each one,2. Say hello So It takes a mental note for tomorrow. Anna Yamamuro, “Menu,” Bukchon On the outskirts of the city, It arrives just in time. It takes a deep breath and releases the pitter patter from the inside. Once the tiny toes hop into some slippers, The hymn is replaced with stillness, a void of sound. Sometimes It grows jealous of the library. The thought of snooze buttons, solace, and continuous silence inch It closer to turning in a two weeks’ notice. How serene it must be, It thinks. But, then It remembers, The laughs and chatter. How the morning hymn would sound slightly off without that pitter patter.
A Strange 경험 on the Bus Home
By Kyle Wardwell, a second-year ETA in Naju Anna Yamamuro, “Snow Day,” Cheonan Feel the dried salt on my faceTitle. 경험 — gyeongheom, experience Sudden awareness of stacked winter clothes and now The world is changed Sweat again Slips down, I feel it in my hair Five people scurry onto the bus, Their figures like burly bears -long padding- An empty seat beside me true but truly a Foreign barrier My frazzled appearance doesn’t help Four hours back Grad school apps flipping brain pancakes Diving A bungee cord In and out of restaurant conversations Thoughts of deadlines and Missed Opportunities for friendship build a little Breeze slips through a crack in the window Nicole Simineri, “Sea View,” Busan Three, the places I find myself in- -variably all the puzzle pieces fall Slowly Into places I’ve traveled many times before Rivers crossed too many times to Count on, count on, I am being Counted on In this relay, the final leg My legs carry me forward Sickness passed through speaking tests Me, myself, I ache, the misemŏnji,1 it rejects1. 미세먼지 — fine dust My pace, my race, I breathe hard and struggle but open the stubborn window fully Two co-teachers Reside in this light province.22. 광주 — Gwangju, derived from the hanja 光州 Its light problems seem to pass Quickly, yet Changes will come, have gone, my intentions tried and true, but often miss The mark, language troubles abound at times can’t quite impart the haekshim33. 핵심 — main idea But heck Direct Or Shim is retiring, some parts of my life retired when The venture of morning calm began, AND Quote me The usual routines Annual means, are so similar a second Time stands still for no one Nicole Simineri, “Snow,” Seoul One One second difference Between first and second, A and B, Old and new me, My students are familiar, this school unchanged But my feelings rearranged and pushed Away From Here The distance between my abilities and memories Grows new life, takes new victims and Nothing lasts forever, bittersweet gains Like chains I Remember ETAs gone by, some who took This exact bus ride Outside the river chides “The race you ran was fine” but you almost won One second, the difference and Nicole Simineri, “Angles,” Seoul Zero The number of rooftops that come Billowing through the window Perilous stargazing shingles strip the Sweat Dripping Down And the air konggi44. 공기 — air A strong key Unlocking memr’ies of home A rare reminder Raring to rain a bit of Melancholy On my parade- -ing thoughts of times gone bi- -focal visions, the near and distant past- ures appear greener on the other side But these Thoughts Transient as the spaces we occupy here As the same sky we share As the too cold breeze Now washing through the layers that stack upon My shoulders, a weight so heavy my Arms give out and The window slams shut.