Li-Young Lee Poems
|3.||Arise, Go Down||3/11/2015|
|7.||The Father's House||1/13/2003|
|11.||Out Of Hiding||1/13/2003|
|13.||This Hour And What Is Dead||1/13/2003|
|14.||Dreaming Of Hair||1/13/2003|
|15.||For A New Citizen Of These United States||1/13/2003|
|16.||This Room And Everything In It||1/13/2003|
|17.||Visions And Interpretations||1/13/2003|
|20.||The City In Which I Loved You||1/13/2003|
|22.||Early In The Morning||1/13/2003|
|25.||I Ask My Mother To Sing||1/13/2003|
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
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, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
I Ask My Mother To Sing
She begins, and my grandmother joins her.
Mother and daughter sing like young girls.
If my father were alive, he would play
his accordion and sway like a boat.
I've never been in Peking, or the Summer Palace,
nor stood on the great Stone Boat to watch
the rain begin on Kuen Ming Lake, the picnickers
running away in the grass.