American Literature · Asian Culture · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry

Li-Young Lee

Pillow There’s nothing I can’t find under there. Voices in the trees, the missing pages of the sea. Everything but sleep. And night is a river bridging the speaking and listening banks, a fortress, undefended and inviolate. There’s nothing that won’t fit under it: fountains clogged with mud and leaves, the houses of my childhood.… Continue reading Li-Young Lee

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American Literature · Asian Culture · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Li-Young Lee

Once, years back, I walked beside my father among the windfall pears. I can’t recall our words. We may have strolled in silence. But I still see him bend that way—left hand braced on knee, creaky—to lift and hold to my eye a rotten pear. In it, a hornet spun crazily, glazed in slow, glistening… Continue reading Li-Young Lee

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American Literature · Asian Culture · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Li-Young Lee

Memory revises me. Even now a letter comes from a place I don’t know, from someone with my name, and postmarked years ago, while I await injunctions from the light or the dark; I wait for shapeliness limned, or dissolution. Is paradise due or narrowly missed until another thousand years? I wait in a blue… Continue reading Li-Young Lee

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