It is easy to dismiss poetry as being disconnected from the human, the everyday, the useful; to deride it for being uppity, dense, or purposefully confusing. What is difficult is encountering the kind of poetry that makes the world clear. Li-Young Lee is a poet of clarity, even if that clarity is admitting to multiplicity and to wonder at the simplest, most difficult facts of life.
Born in Jakarta after his parents fled China, Lee is a poet of witness to exile, loss, family, love, and stitched through it all: the intimacy of faith. Whether that bond appears in his poetry between a father and son, a god and a human, or a body and the air around, Lee dares each of us to open our eyes wider to the world. There is nothing as divine as this life. There is nothing flawed that is not deserving of a poem. Author of six beloved poetry collections, a memoir, and a translation of the Dao De Jing, Lee is a poet whose voice has shaped generations of writers.
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It is easy to dismiss poetry as being disconnected from the human, the everyday, the useful; to deride it for being uppity, dense, or purposefully confusing. What is difficult is encountering the kind of poetry that makes the world clear. Li-Young Lee is a poet of clarity, even if that clarity is admitting to multiplicity and to wonder at the simplest, most difficult facts of life.
Born in Jakarta after his parents fled China, Lee is a poet of witness to exile, loss, family, love, and stitched through it all: the intimacy of faith. Whether that bond appears in his poetry between a father and son, a god and a human, or a body and the air around, Lee dares each of us to open our eyes wider to the world. There is nothing as divine as this life. There is nothing flawed that is not deserving of a poem. Author of six beloved poetry collections, a memoir, and a translation of the Dao De Jing, Lee is a poet whose voice has shaped generations of writers.
For James Tate, comedy and tragedy are inextricably linked within poetry. They appear as dual facets of ordinary life—the mundane and the extraordinary as one. As you’ll hear in this recording from February 2003, this is laugh-out-loud poetry that wanders from the baseball field to the petting zoo and back home. And yet, after the laughter, you’ll often find yourself catapulted into quiet, left to consider how this world breaks your heart again and again.
SAL/on air
It is easy to dismiss poetry as being disconnected from the human, the everyday, the useful; to deride it for being uppity, dense, or purposefully confusing. What is difficult is encountering the kind of poetry that makes the world clear. Li-Young Lee is a poet of clarity, even if that clarity is admitting to multiplicity and to wonder at the simplest, most difficult facts of life.
Born in Jakarta after his parents fled China, Lee is a poet of witness to exile, loss, family, love, and stitched through it all: the intimacy of faith. Whether that bond appears in his poetry between a father and son, a god and a human, or a body and the air around, Lee dares each of us to open our eyes wider to the world. There is nothing as divine as this life. There is nothing flawed that is not deserving of a poem. Author of six beloved poetry collections, a memoir, and a translation of the Dao De Jing, Lee is a poet whose voice has shaped generations of writers.
