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Untamed A piece to be approached as a poem. Yet there is a story ... The untamed, perhaps even called a 'soul' reimagines the past. Alone having left Korea, untamed has wandered foreign horizons. Releasing a blur of pain, lips call out scaring away the bitter hurt.   In early autumn returning to Seoul, a place once called home, wild faces the times. What did Korea mean? What does it bring now? The flowering tree under the harvest moon beckons. Tread softly for the journey has just begun.  Prologue  Spirit,  form the Koryo Dynasty, enters. Plays Buk & dances: cleansing the space. Exits  (5 min.) I. Facing the Past Wild emerges from the flowering tree. Finds a posted paper on the tree and reads  Yi Sang poem:   Flowering Tree / 꽃나무 On an open field      a flowering tree stands      with no other like it      nearby      the flowering tree blossoms with a burning heart      as if thinking of      another flowering tree      burns its heart.      The flowering tree cannot reac

... received notice there was a tenant in the bushes next to my studio/living residence ... am in the process of relocating ...  the structure and surrounding area are vacant ... the prairie gothic building was actually a place of worship in previous incarnations thus i refer to my place as The Temple ... there exists a tiny insignificant plot at the back dominated by white and purple flowering lilac bushes open to  the alley ...  ... on the edge of downtown ... located a stones throw away from the original train station turned into small mall ... surrounded mostly by apartments and housing "progressing" towards gentrification i allowed this tiny unkempt bush area to be a respite from concrete ... oh yes there is a lawn ... not exactly manicured turf grass but a collection of quack grass and the likes i watch over treasuring the dandelions, ants, ladybugs and multitudes of robins, magpies, ravens, crows and others ... close to the basement windows are thankfully a mix of tall

... we were returning from a walk to Azalea ridge ... a fellow walker had stopped on the bridge at trail's end ... a bridge from trail to street ... he was pulling what most, i believe, would describe as weeds ... wasn't sure if he was a worker or ... he stood up and continued down towards the bus stop ... he was singing quietly ... was struck by the genuinely beautiful melody and the pure voice quality ... listened to his warm, soft cadence ... he smiled as i passed and with joy shouted our "hello ... where are you from?" ... i replied and he nodded ... "ahh Canada" ... ... i asked my partner to invite him to keep singing ... after many requests he started to sing again ... my impulse was to record him ... instead after a minute of walking together i joined in following his pitch wrapping my tongue around the foreign korean sounds ... he stopped surprised, laughed with joy commending me on my voice ... we had, for a fraction of a second, connected ... his c

... cities amaze in their ability to disregard, displace and disrupt ... my first weeks in Seoul confirm this statement ... at the moment i am an onlooker more than a resident ... persist, endure, follow & watch ...  ... i search for a form of reconciliation ecology ... inventing, establishing and maintaining a new habitat designed for a diversity of living, working and playing ... a place which possesses anima meaning breath, spirit and soul  ... at first, in the leaving, i imagined a radical break ... on arrival have learned to accept a certain amount of conservation of the past needs preservation ... perhaps even restoration ... the challenge is to generate a creative coexistence between the old and new territories ... to comprehend the mysteries of place a cultivation of morals & purpose are required ... i consciously accept the self-organizing complexity of this odyssey ...  ... i once dreamed of a place for a vibrant exchange of active creation and researching ingenuity .

after the rains this tiny creek becomes a torrent flowing  ... there has been a shift ... in my twenties walking the streets or forests of Europe, especially the Vienna Woods, was haunted by history ... longed the feeling of walking the land in Canada where even the urban wilds had a sense of newness ... of unforged paths not tread ...  ... certainly an illusion ... yet bathed in the illusion ... every return to Europe since that early first visit confirmed the weight of history, especially when in Paris and the surrounding landscape ... ... now walking the trails on the edge of Seoul a different sensation has taken hold ... am not walking with ghosts ... the carefully cared for paths exude a respect ... the past is not haunting - the ancestors support ... even living within ... the past is alive ... ready to be touched ... my feet listen to the stone placed which guides my passage ... the path willingly shares layers of stories to be honoured ... ...what has changed:  age? place? circ

 ... walking on the edge trails of Bukhansan Park on a humid, late Sunday evening ... have taken to walking b efore sleep to cope with the heat ... it is 10 pm ... the path quiet, empty & silent yet lighted enough (not sure am actually allowed in the park but there is no locked gate, no English signage so will plead ignorance) ... enjoy feeling the way by foot loving the steep rocky climb ... reminded of my adventures on Keats island many years ago ...  ... the sound of a small creek on the left with quite a drop & the thick forest rising on the right  ... the path wide & winding ... tranquil ... ... thinking in Canada might be concerned about bears, coyote and such ... as if conjured to dispel my notions a huge growl rustles the bush beside me ... a large white dog appears ... then another ... another ... three beautiful white dogs one medium large followed by two others slightly smaller faced me ...  ... startled frozen in my tracks, to disguise my anxiety calmly pronounc

 … after an exhausting one and a half hour walk in 33 degree Celsius heat, through the streets of Gangbuk, Seoul we arrived at cafe Espere … Internet reviews attributed this site to not only be the best coffee in Korea but perhaps the world … really needed ground coffee beans … still it felt crazy to make the journey under the blazing afternoon sun ... but they closed at six on Sundays so we had no choice … or did we … … we entered sweaty & disheveled ...  asked for beans only to be told by server/owner/ceo Robin Yun (Chunggu Yun) they roasted every Tuesday and were essentially out of stock ...  as Ae & Robin conversed i scanned the choices ... only two small packs remained ... both lacked what i thought was worth the journey ... on the shelf there was the type of espresso maker i used which gave a glimmer of hope ... Ae & Robin came to my side ... he suggested La Piedra from Peru (Raspberry,Vanila, Chocolate) ... my mind rejected even the idea of such a coffee ... after mo