We suffer each other to have each other a while.
Li-Young LeeMots clés poetry
A poem is like a score for the human voice.
Li-Young LeeMaybe being winged means being wounded by infinity.
Li-Young LeeYou think
of a woman, a favorite
dress, your old father's breasts
the last time you saw him, his breath,
brief, the leaf
you've torn from a vine and which you hold now
to your cheek like a train ticket
or a piece of cloth, a little hand or a blade--
it all depends
on the course of your memory.
It's a place
for those who own no place
to correspond to ruins in the soul.
It's mine.
It's all yours.
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 torso
of light, your heat
I must have, your opening
I'd eat, each moment
of that soft-finned fruit,
inverted fountain in which I don't see me.
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.
But, no one
can tell without cease
our human
story, and so we
lose, lose
While all bodies share the same fate, all voices do not.
Li-Young LeeBrimming. That's what it is, I want to get to a place where my sentences enact brimming.
Li-Young LeeMots clés poetry
..in the last few years American poetry has come out of a poetry of complaint, not praising, and it was initially maybe rich. And it can continue to be rich if we remember that we shouldn't write out of complaint. We should write out of grief, but not grievance. Grief is rich, ecstatic. But grievance is not -- it's a complaint, it's whining.
Li-Young LeePage 1 de 2.
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