Our bodies look solid, but they arent. Were like a fountain. A fountain of water looks solid, but you can put your fingers right through it. Our bodies look like things, but theres no thingness to them.
While all bodies share the same fate, all voices do not. - Li-Young Lee
While all bodies share the same fate, all voices do not.
- Li-Young Lee
A bruise, blue in the muscle, you impinge upon me. As bone hugs the ache home, so I'm vexed to love you, your body the shape of returns, your hair a … - Li-Young Lee
A bruise, blue in the muscle, you impinge upon me. As bone hugs the ache home, so I'm vexed to love you, your body the shape of returns, your hair a …
That's what I want, that kind of recklessness where the poem is even ahead of you. It's like riding a horse that's a little too wild for you, so ther… - Li-Young Lee
That's what I want, that kind of recklessness where the poem is even ahead of you. It's like riding a horse that's a little too wild for you, so ther…
Maybe being winged means being wounded by infinity. - Li-Young Lee
Maybe being winged means being wounded by infinity.
Poetry is the language of extremity. Poetry is a transfer of potency. You feel something potent and then you transfer it onto the page. - Li-Young Lee
Poetry is the language of extremity. Poetry is a transfer of potency. You feel something potent and then you transfer it onto the page.
There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible … - Li-Young Lee
There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible …
Brimming. That's what it is, I want to get to a place where my sentences enact brimming. - Li-Young Lee
Brimming. That's what it is, I want to get to a place where my sentences enact brimming.
Memory is sweet. Even when it’s painful, memory is sweet. - Li-Young Lee
Memory is sweet. Even when it’s painful, memory is sweet.
Some things never leave a person: scent of the hair of one you love, the texture of persimmons, in your palm, the ripe weight. - Li-Young Lee
Some things never leave a person: scent of the hair of one you love, the texture of persimmons, in your palm, the ripe weight.
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