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Four
​by Suphil Lee Park

Such Is the Way the Heart Inflects

It brays
and won’t break.
And breaks
a storm the pasture can’t bridle.
Let it break away.
Let the breadth of land grow.
Never mind
losing sight of it
or mending.
Even a gentle heart won’t gentle
in the know.
Catch
a break
in the storm.
Light made more light more
light made
light of.

Starlit as It Is in This Fuller Dimension

​​No dots
to connect, to start
with—how fault
structure without knowing
its bias:
do’s is two letters
short of don'ts.
(How little I am
of myself when full
of it.)
Lights elope.
Soon as it’s done, it’s been done
to death.
The moon knocked
out cold
in the well, the knock-
off drowns in full
glory.
Let all precede
a vice versa. At the end
of the day
you wear a worn look or it wore you
down to start
with. Let something kept
in the dark be
LED.

A Biopic

           What body isn’t free-
hold.
Angels with clay feet.
 
           What body is free
of hurt.
Every fault a nick
           through which the mind comes
           to gleam.
 
A cloud
           enveloping a pit of light.
 
We’re bidding our time.
Some bidding for more.


Time and Time Again

Whoever’s come this far knows most of us
will beg someday on our knees.
But there’s more than one way to beg.
Some will say Please show mercy.
Others, Mercy on us.
 
When is the best time to read poetry?
 
Someone asks.
Asked.
 
Never have I come with a full knowledge of anyone’s past
to the person, which spares room for some extent
of generosity. Let us, beneficiaries, count
our blessings: how much of knowing
is part of getting to. For the time
being.
 
What is the best time to read poetry?
 
One evening with you lying face down, hair straight
from the shower a bunched-up rose, I’ll remember
I’ve seen too much water in pain
now it’s inseparable from my own.
 
When to read poetry–someone asked a long time ago
but is still asking
for no answer was returned.
 
Let us first in peace
watch the day brought to its knees
by the next.
Let us then rephrase:
what knife, once made, won’t draw blood?

Suphil Lee Park
Suphil Lee Park (수필 리 박 / 秀筆 李 朴) is the author of the poetry collection, Present Tense Complex (Conduit Books & Ephemera 2021), winner of the Marystina Santiestevan Prize, and a poetry chapbook, Still Life (Factory Hollow Press 2023), winner of the Tomaž Šalamun Prize, and is the translator of If You're Going to Live to One Hundred, You Might As Well Be Happy by Rhee Kun Hoo. You can find more about her at: https://suphil-lee-park.com/

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In Conversation with Elisa Gabbert >>

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  • Home
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