Yi Sang Poems

the porcelain cup is similar to my skull. when i grasp the cup firmly with my hand an arm out of nowhere sprouts on my arm like a graft and the hand on
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Up above the shimmering sea
Two or three seagulls are hovering.
Rolling, wheeling, they write a poem.
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The first line is a full skirt,
the second is the bodice;
On reaching the third and last
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