i knew only 5 hangul words, he knew only "hello" and "number one." terrified he'd lose his leg-we drove him to seoul against orders, refused to leave till a doctor saw. communicated with hands, socks, oranges, encouraging nods & cigarettes.
I'm a cook. And I write, sometimes about food, mostly poems. I make stuff. I get lost. I'm worried about vanishing bees, melting icecaps, the decrease of civility in the world, seedless watermelons, and whether there will be enough time for me to get it all right.