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Sueyeun Juliette
Lee
where it all went
The sound carries on for days and makes news for
those trapped in their beds.
Inside the vents the air moves with great force and silence.
The brushing of their fingers is like something caught upon a hair.
By being vivid I was acknowledging the dust quaked up from under the
ground.
Previously buried in shopping malls and hidden reserves.
My grandmother recently lost her tooth.
Afterwards, when it burns, it is safe to say come out.
I was orphaned before I learned to speak.
I cannot say with any resilience. Maybe the body makes a chart in
sand.
I imagine the tiniest hermit crab bending his head to speak.
The summer air is desperate and moist.
Inside a long nosed snake a smaller bird awakes.
The heart is divided just as we have been divided.
A spider could easily crawl along the slit edge and build a shadow
home.
The monumental wake up in the brightest of the day.
Sun spots a new quiver full of alarm in the eye’s pouches.
From inside them a small dance and magnetic eruptions.
I see that there are multiple images from how you dissolved and me.
A liquid sense. A telegenic smile. Caught across a growing riff.
My dearest lady and sir.
To suffer this and not even have its name.
A firefight in real time only a hummingbird’s perspective draws
down.
Into understanding that is to say.
When her mother speaks she listens.
I have been learning to fight.
My fist is nothing without a moon to guide it.
There are so many things to let go of inside this matter.
That your shadow broke its way across the page.
My husband was murdered when she was five days old.
The mayor of a golden town who painted with his brown hand.
Who captured where he went has been still.
My features play about the river where we washed our feet.
Where I am now tasted like rain.
Where to go. One foot follows the next.
What my eyes do not see I didn’t know and so on.
Without Tears
I used to read a book and the first word I ever read was he. After
its having gone and back he would make the sound another and then
return. There was a mystery in action that kept him falling down.
He.
I read that blood dripped down. Outside is crushed, a swarm of blue
bees. It fell and missed his eyes. He really loves him every time.
Light makes space good. Not artificial or made of glass. This light
makes this space good. To move through it is breathing. Are you a
good man? She is a good girl. There is a scar there there there
there.
There I say you are making no good decisions. Quietly and quick, a
little to the side. It is a sound he makes. A book I never found.
He is the first I read and after shortly some time a girl. She is
beautiful. She is not waiting and thinking. Blue and bees, crushed
and crushed. To him is another way. And another and another and he.
I read that she really loves him. In the light space is good.
A river ran through a door. Crushed and blue, a swarm. He kept
falling down and to the side. A returning. She is thinking and not
waiting. She is thinking this is fresh and good. This means of light
and spaces, not spaces, spaces. He. She is waiting and not thinking.
Then the echo would return after its having gone. Thinking this
means good.
DEAR MARGARET CHO
we aren’t differentiable with bangs and hooded
lids.
i know the likeness doesn’t stop right there.
what’s so great about being horny? the joke is insatiable.
it rips and roars between and through.
we both have found our mother’s jewels.
buried in closets, rolled in silk thread and bunting.
done in scarlet, fortunately found, never for the men in sharing.
these are our secrets. our punch lines and couplets.
i went to bed thinking “pixies.” the bliss and
aftermath of a spiritual kiss.
how you resonate without rooms, maintaining perfect valences.
where is the disaster at the end of this dread?
in my dream state you were queen, a reigning bodhisattva without a
sprig.
i climbed inside your belly. punched inside you laughed and laughed,
converting persimmons into a freedom jelly.
slathered all over, i found us exuberant,
happy to swing or go both ways.
©
Sueyeun Juliette Lee 2007
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