Poem: I Am My Names (A.)

I Am My Names

A.

I hear the drum of my father’s life
most clearly when I sit at night
to type my poems of love and love.

His soft signal is growing soft.
I strain the harder to hear the drop
of ardor in the mountain air.

My name is Answer. I am a son.

Comments

A.H. said…
Such precision, Jee. I hope that I will be able to make the virtual party. And "the harder to hear the drop/ of ardor in the mountain air." That is a finely weighted line. The mutation of the "r" sound carries a trembling. Reminds me of Bunting reading Pound's "Sextus Propertius" and drawing out an elegiac tremor through the "r" sound. An intaglio of a poem.
6:57 PM
Jee Leong said…
Thanks, Andrew. The next one is done in relief.
8:53 AM
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