Recurrence

By SEAN CHO A.

in the absence of wind: stillness of course.
the slowness of the leaves is a reminder
of the importance of scale. of time. scale
of time. the stillness in the branches becomes

a reminder of the limitations of home. a broken
branch in a child’s hand becomes a sword or
a magic wand depending on the bedtime stories

where were we again? the ever present loud

i’ve said it before: it all starts in the eye.
ends with i. there is hope in shame. hope
of change. right now. at this very moment:

 

Sean Cho A. is a visiting professor of instruction at a Midwestern university.

[Purchase Issue 27 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Recurrence

Related Posts

A window on the side of a white building in Temple, New Hampshire

Dispatches from Søgne, Ditmas Park, and Temple

JULIA TORO
Sitting around the white painted wood and metal table / that hosted the best dinners of my childhood / my uncle is sharing / his many theories of the world / the complexities of his thoughts are / reserved for Norwegian, with some words here and there / to keep his English-speaking audience engaged

November 2025 Poetry Feature: My Wallonia: Welcoming Dylan Carpenter

DYLAN CARPENTER
I have heard the symptoms play upon world’s corroded lyre, / Pictured my Wallonia and seen the waterfall afire. // I have seen us pitifully surrender, one by one, the Wish, / Frowning at a technocrat who stammers—Hör auf, ich warne dich! // Footless footmen, goatless goatherds, songless sirens, to the last, Privately remark—