Kimiko Hahn Poems
- In Childhood things don't die or remain damaged but return:...
- The Dream Of A Fire Engine Without the sun filtered through ...
- Giraffes After skimming the Sunday Times, Dad turned to the ...
- A Bowl Of Spaghetti "To find a connectome, or the mental...
- The Sweetwater Caverns Curious to see caverns, we detoured ...
- The Dream Of A Lacquer Box I wish I knew the contents and I ...
- The Dream of Shoji How to say milk? How to say sand, snow, ...
Kimiko Hahn (born 1955 Mount Kisco, New York) is an American poet and distinguished professor in the MFA program of Queens College, CUNY. Her work frequently deals with the reinvention of poetic forms and the intersecting of conflicting identities .
Kimiko Hahn was born in Mount Kisco, New York on July 5, 1955. Her parents are both artists. Her mother, Maude Miyako Hamai, was a Japanese American from Maui, Hawaii; her father, Walter Hahn, a German American from Wisconsin. They met in Chicago, where Walter Hahn was a friend of notable African-American author, Ralph Ellison.
Hahn grew up in Pleasantville, New York, and between 1964 to 1965, the Hahns later lived in Tokyo, Japan. As a... more »
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things don't die or remain damaged
but return: stumps grow back hands,
a head reconnects to a neck,
a whole corpse rises blushing and newly elastic.
Later this vision is not True:
the grandmother remains dead
not hibernating in a wolf's belly.
Or the blue parakeet does not return
from the little grave in the fern garden
though one may wake in the morning
thinking mother's call is the bird.
Or maybe the bird is with grandmother
inside light. Or grandmother was the bird
and is now the dog
gnawing on the chair leg.
Where do the gone ...