From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee
"O, to take what we love inside, / to carry within us an orchard, to eat / not only the skin, but the shade, / not only the sugar, but the days
One Heart by Li-Young Lee
Weakness at 3AM: what if I wrote you a letter, just a short one, a little note, asking how you are. Or: I miss you. What if I just sent you a poem, or a song, or Egon Schiele's Embrace?
Irises by Li-Young Lee
Found this while browsing the poetry section. Was waiting for S. and for a moment I forgot myself. The ride from Cavite to Makati is long; I've got time. We writers tend to make the bookstore our meeting place ---
Persimmons by Li-Young Lee
And now, to end a grand year --- a poem brimming with all my emotions that I can't even begin name. Thank you, 2010. You've been lovely. Persimmons Li-Young Lee In sixth grade Mrs. Walker slapped the back of my head and made me stand
Little Father by Li-Young Lee
Dear Lolo, it's our first Father's Day without you. It still hurts. Little Father Li-Young Lee I buried my father in the sky. Since then, the birds clean and comb him every morning and pull the blanket up to his chin every
The Hour and What Is Dead by Li-Young Lee
My heart is taken. Again and again. So, so beautiful. The Hour and What Is Dead Li-Young Lee Tonight my brother, in heavy boots, is walking through bare rooms over my head, opening and closing doors. What could he be looking for in an empty
This Room and Everything in It by Li-Young Lee
I think I love this poet. One of my recent favourites. This Room and Everything in It Li-Young Lee Lie still now while I prepare for my future, certain hard days ahead, when I'll need what I know so clearly this moment. I am making use of the
The Gift by Li-Young Lee
Another one, perhaps? I love Li-Young Lee's voice, and on a rainy day his poems are perfect company. The Gift Li-Young Lee To pull the metal splinter from my palm my father recited a story in a low voice. I watched his lovely face
Early in the Morning by Li-Young Lee
Of all the poems I've read so far in my life, there are poets whom I admire so much, I would be speechless if they suddenly appear before me now. I know there will never be another one like them,