Before you stumble into the forest of my tangled thoughts, I would like to say a few words about what you’re about to read.
The way I think of poetry is very different from how critics or the academia may view such a traditional medium of art. That is not to say that I disagree with everything about poetry and what good poetry is, and I’ll try my best to give my most sincere opinion here.
Poetry is an art that is boundless for its limitations (sonnets are so expressive and liberating, even if you’re writing in iambic pentameters.) It may also be boundless for the lack thereof. But essentially, poetry is the best representation of an unfiltered thought through words. (Though paint is a different matter.) This may sound naive to the post-modernist reader, but it reaches a place in one’s mind no other kind of writing allows.
My poems, specifically, are the most immediate thoughts from a reaction or a profound observation. It may also be of a strong image that relates most faithfully to feeling or a phrase (I can point to some examples from “…if you can see me” for this). Some are written from something beyond my own experiences from sources dating before third century, B.C.
“…if you can see me” used to be one poem when I first read it at Shakespeare & Co. in Paris in the Summer of 2010, but after a while I realized all the stanzas have very different characters and I decided to split them into parts, like I have presented here.
“Stargazing” was written four years ago for my mother, and read to a distinguished audience (Sir Christopher Ricks and David Ferry) at my university on April 28, 2012.