Li-Young Lee Poems
|5.||This Hour And What Is Dead||1/13/2003|
|6.||The Father's House||1/13/2003|
|8.||Arise, Go Down||3/11/2015|
|11.||This Room And Everything In It||1/13/2003|
|13.||Dreaming Of Hair||1/13/2003|
|14.||For A New Citizen Of These United States||1/13/2003|
|15.||Out Of Hiding||1/13/2003|
|17.||Visions And Interpretations||1/13/2003|
|20.||Early In The Morning||1/13/2003|
|21.||I Ask My Mother To Sing||1/13/2003|
|25.||The City In Which I Loved You||1/13/2003|
Sad is the man who is asked for a story
and can't come up with one.
His five-year-old son waits in his lap.
Not the same story, Baba. A new one.
The man rubs his chin, scratches his ear.
In a room full of books in a world
of stories, he can recall
not one, and soon, he thinks, the boy
will give up on his father.
Already the man lives far ahead, he sees
the day this boy will go. Don't go!
Hear the alligator story! The angel story once more!
You love the spider story. You laugh at the spider.
Let me tell it!
But the boy is packing his ...
The Father's House
Here, as in childhood, Brother, no one knows us.
And someone has died, and someone is not yet
born, while our father walks through his church at night
and sets all the clocks for spring. His sleeplessness
weighs heavy on my forehead, his death almost
nothing. in the only letter he wrote to us