Kimiko Hahn Poems
|1.||A Bowl Of Spaghetti||3/24/2014|
|6.||The Dream Of A Fire Engine||3/24/2014|
|7.||The Dream Of A Lacquer Box||3/24/2014|
|8.||The Dream of Knife, Fork, and Spoon||5/23/2016|
|9.||The Dream of Shoji||5/23/2016|
|10.||The Sweetwater Caverns||3/24/2014|
Comments about Kimiko Hahn
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 ...