A door jumps out from shadows, then jumps away. This is what I've come to find: the back door, unlatched. Tooled by insular wind, it slams and slams without meaning to and without meaning.
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.
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.
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.
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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