"My Indigo" and "From Blossoms" by Li Young Lee

[Passion of the Poets]

My Indigo

It's late. I've come
to find the flower which blossoms
like a saint dying upside down.
The rose won't do, nor the iris.
I've come to find the moody one, the shy one,
downcast, grave, and isolated.
Now, blackness gathers in the grass,
and I am on my hands and knees.
What is its name?

Little sister, my indigo,
my secret, vaginal and sweet,
you unfurl yourself shamelessly
toward the ground. You burn. You live
a while in two worlds
at once.

by Li-Young Lee



FROM BLOSSOMS

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

By Li Young Lee

[Author-Poet Aberjhani]

I first became familiar with the name Li Young Lee some years back when his first published collection of poetry drew all of kinds of off the chain praise in the literary world. It's always a thrill to rediscover his work and appreciate it anew. Both MY INDIGO and FROM BLOSSOMS are very fine examples of his skill and the depth of his soulful humanity.

Aberjhani