Biography of Linh Dinh
Linh Dinh was born in Saigon, Vietnam in 1963, came to the US in 1975, and has also lived in Italy and England. He is the author of two collections of stories and four books of poems. His work has been anthologized in Best American Poetry 2000, Best American Poetry 2004, Best American Poetry 2007 and Great American Prose Poems from Poe to the Present, among other places. Linh Dinh is also the editor of the anthologies Night, Again: Contemporary Fiction from Vietnam (Seven Stories Press 1996) and Three Vietnamese Poets (Tinfish 2001) , and translator of Night, Fish and Charlie Parker, the poetry of Phan Nhien Hao (Tupelo 2006) . Blood and Soap was chosen by the Village Voice as one of the best books of 2004. His poems and stories have been translated into Italian, Spanish, German, Dutch, Portuguese, Japanese and Arabic, and he has been invited to read his works all over the US, London, Cambridge and Berlin. He has also published widely in Vietnamese. He lives in Philadelphia.
Linh Dinh's Works:
Fake House, short stories (Seven Stories Press 2000) , Blood and Soap, short stories (Seven Stories Press 2004) , All Around What Empties Out, poems (Tinfish 2003) , American Tatts, poems (Chax 2005) , Borderless Bodies, poems (Factory School 2006) and Jam Alerts, poems (Chax 2007) .
Linh Dinh Poems
He has a muscular torso With a thousand erections Lighting up the night sky But none sticks up more
Are You Refined?
I used to paint with linseed, Now I paint with crude oil. Draped in cheap oil and sweating oil,
Death Will Come With Your Eyes
Death will come with your eyes— this death that accompanies us from morning till night, sleepless, deaf, like an old regret
Man and woman watch each other lying in bed: their two bodies stretched out wide and exhausted. the man is still, only the woman takes long breaths that quiver her ribs. The legs distended
My Local Burning
If it feels and looks like racing, And crashes, hallelujah, like racing, Then it's World War III all right.
Love Tokens (A Translation Of 'Tặ ...
I’ll give you a roll of barbwire A vine for this modern epoch Climbing all over our souls That’s our love, take it, don’t ask
Toy For Future Children
A blind and deaf bullet buried in the field Dozing through decades of blood and bones Then one morning In a bustling future
Invaders invariably call themselves: a) berserkers b) marauders
His palace surrounded, he fled through miles Of secret tunnels, hopped into a waiting SUV And was driven to a house of worship, where They finally found him, hours later, praying,
A Reactionary Tale
I was a caring husband. I bought socks for my family. My swarthy wife liked to wear these thick woolen socks that came up to her milky thighs.
Why be ashamed? When one has done time, if they let one out, it's because like everybody else who belongs to the streets, one has been in prison.
The Cat Will Know
Again the rain will fall on the sweet pavements, a light rain like a breath or a footstep.
The Cat Will Know
Again the rain will fall
on the sweet pavements,
a light rain
like a breath or a footstep.
Again the breeze and the dawn
will blossom lightly
beneath your footstep
as you reenter.
Among flowers and sills