Memory revises me. Even now a letter comes from a place I don’t know, from someone with my name and postmarked years… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
Poetry is the language of extremity. Poetry is a transfer of potency. You feel something potent and then you transfer it onto… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
“In the uproar, the confusion of accents and inflections how will you hear me when I open my mouth? Look for me,… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
The knowledge that it takes to write a poem gets burnt up in the writing of the poem. — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
That's what I want, that kind of recklessness where the poem is even ahead of you. It's like riding a horse that's… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
In writing poetry, all of one's attention is focused on some inner voice. — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
People who read poetry have heard about the burning bush, but when you write poetry, you sit inside the burning bush. — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
“..in the last few years American poetry has come out of a poetry of complaint, not praising, and it was initially maybe… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
“but in the city in which I love you, no one comes, no one meets me in the brick clefts; in the… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
Every time you write a poem it’s apocalyptic. You’re revealing who you really are to yourself. — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
“My tongue remembers your wounded flavor. The vein in my neck adores you. A sword stands up between my hips, my hidden… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
Memory revises me. Even now a letter comes from a place I don’t know, from someone with my name and postmarked years ago, while… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
Our bodies look solid, but they arent. Were like a fountain. A fountain of water looks solid, but you can put your fingers right… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
I've been thinking about something for a long time, and I keep noticing that most human speech-if not all human speech-is made with the… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
“From blossoms comes this brown paper bag of peaches we bought from the boy at the bend in the road where we turned toward… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
“But, no one can tell without cease our human story, and so we lose, lose” — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
“The moon from any window is one part whoever’s looking. The part I can’t see is everything my sister keeps to herself. One part… — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
Poetry is the language of extremity. Poetry is a transfer of potency. You feel something potent and then you transfer it onto the page. — Li-Young Lee Copy Share Image
