Looks like this is an all poetry edition of Hando No Kuzushi.
No worries - it is our honor to publish the work of Lillianna Marie and Mike Pak, two poets that we will definitely be following from now on. They represent the splintered and playful aspects of the Asian American experience that often goes un-noticed. We can only hope to receive work of this caliber in the future.
Editors,
Hando No Kuzushi
Monday, August 30, 2010
the wormhole Jaegwon Kim crawled through
By Lillianna Marie
my sister is Hyoni Kang in the morning
she flaunts her Kim Yu-Na mini-skirt as i sip my coffee.
cello is in the living room making a movie in his mind;
cello is fluffing his ( Hong Sangsoo
Ahn Byeong-ki
Im Kwon-taek
Song Hae-seong) feathers.
i slide into my brand new Lee Dong Youb shoes, & matching t-shirt,
i hum the electro-pop jam of 10:24 a.m.
we are returning to the neon Nam June Paik island,
the avant-garde sun is up &
we are on our way
Lillianna Marie is a poet, and scholar who recently completed two years of service as a Teach for America Corps member. Her interests lie at the intersections of experimental art objects and radical models of temporality. Her work has previously been published in the Hawai'i Review, the Long River Review, and Helix Magazine.
my sister is Hyoni Kang in the morning
she flaunts her Kim Yu-Na mini-skirt as i sip my coffee.
cello is in the living room making a movie in his mind;
cello is fluffing his ( Hong Sangsoo
Ahn Byeong-ki
Im Kwon-taek
Song Hae-seong) feathers.
i slide into my brand new Lee Dong Youb shoes, & matching t-shirt,
i hum the electro-pop jam of 10:24 a.m.
we are returning to the neon Nam June Paik island,
the avant-garde sun is up &
we are on our way
Lillianna Marie is a poet, and scholar who recently completed two years of service as a Teach for America Corps member. Her interests lie at the intersections of experimental art objects and radical models of temporality. Her work has previously been published in the Hawai'i Review, the Long River Review, and Helix Magazine.
Wordlessness (not Worldlessness)
By Mike Pak
Some days I wish not to speak
to abstain from language
fold it neatly and
hide it in my pockets,
not letting it schism my thoughts
my world
and the wind that pulls leaves
from trees I've never seen.
But not all nights are patient,
and some nights the stars
seem to taunt me
and the moon laughs
at my attempts to avoid language
and the stones language chips away.
How can I tell others of
my war on language
when my words themselves are cloven
from the mountains
I fear are crumbling?
Michael Pak has lived and travelled around the world, most recently across the continental states from coast to coast. His poetry blog Farts! (http://braddagod.blogspot.com) is updated every Tuesday and Thursday. He lives in Kaneohe, Hawaii.
Some days I wish not to speak
to abstain from language
fold it neatly and
hide it in my pockets,
not letting it schism my thoughts
my world
and the wind that pulls leaves
from trees I've never seen.
But not all nights are patient,
and some nights the stars
seem to taunt me
and the moon laughs
at my attempts to avoid language
and the stones language chips away.
How can I tell others of
my war on language
when my words themselves are cloven
from the mountains
I fear are crumbling?
Michael Pak has lived and travelled around the world, most recently across the continental states from coast to coast. His poetry blog Farts! (http://braddagod.blogspot.com) is updated every Tuesday and Thursday. He lives in Kaneohe, Hawaii.
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