by Li-Young Lee

Kim Sisto Robinson: Kafka stated... "We ought to only read books that stab us." Li-Young Lee has stabbed directly through the heart with "Rose." In these beautifully crafted poems, he has interlaced the past with the present, his Chinese heritage, his mother, his father, his wife...but Oh, his mother is so very present. Reading Lee's poetry is like soaking in a warm bath, having a lovely dream, remembering something beautiful. The language dripped inside my body and mind like a benediction, a blessing, something sweet.

"In my dream I fly
past summers and moths,
to the thistle
caught in my mother's hair, the purple one I touched and bled for, to myself at three, sleeping beside her,
waking with her hair in my mouth."
-Li-Young Lee-

Oh, it is almost too much to absorb!
Rating: *****

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