and I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slowThe most beautiful part of your bodyis where it’s headed. — Ocean Vuong, from “Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong,” The New Yorker; Poems. May 4, 2015 Issue.
O minutehand, teach me how to hold [her] the way thirst holds water. Let every river envy our mouths. Let every kiss hit the body like a season. Where apples thunder the earth with red hooves. — Ocean Vuong, from “A Little Closer to the Edge,” Poetry ( April 2016)
You, drowning between my arms — stay. — Ocean Vuong, from “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous,” Poetry Magazine. (December 2014)
Say surrender. Say alabaster. Switchblade. Honeysuckle. Goldenrod. Say autumn. Say autumn despite the green in your eyes. Beauty despite daylight. Say you’d kill for it. Unbreakable dawn mounting in your throat. My thrashing beneath you like a sparrow stunned with falling. — Ocean Vuong, from “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous,” Poetry… Continue reading Ocean Vuong
Some nights you are the lighthouse / some nights the sea / what this means is that I don’t know / desire other than the need / to be shattered & rebuilt — Ocean Vuong, from “My Father Writes From Prison,” Night Sky with Exit Wounds. (Copper Canyon Press; First Edition edition, April 5, 2016)
[…] remember, loneliness is still time spent with the world. — Ocean Vuong, from “Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong,” The New Yorker: Poems. May 4, 2015 Issue.
Is that what art is? To be touched thinking what we feel is ours, when, in the end, it was someone else, in longing, who finds us? — Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous (Penguin, 2019)
Language exists because nothing exists between those who express themselves. All language is therefore a language of prayer. Held in the dark, without sleep. — Lynn Xu, from “Say You Will Die For Me,” Debts and Lessons.( Omnidawn; 1 edition, April 1, 2013)
Sadness is the ambrosia of all art. ― Frances Fong
Eurydice It’s more like the sound a doe makes when the arrowhead replaces the day with an answer to the rib’s hollowed hum. We saw it coming but kept walking through the hole in the garden. Because the leaves were bright green & the fire only a pink brushstroke in the distance. It’s not about… Continue reading Ocean Vuong