Kundiman: 15 Years of Supporting Asian American Writers

“When will you pause and survey what to plant?” 

Postcard Poem from DJ Kim. 

“I don’t know what to say anymore now that I’ve finally admitted to myself: I don’t pray. Sending love, sending hugs — good vibes — nothing feels the same as “praying for you.” But is a hollow prayer better than no prayer? By what degree? What do I send when I think of you fondly? When I wish I could hold your hand in my own?” 

“They began with beams spaced to give the illusion of the wall because it could not be imagined. A raven perched nearby eating last fall’s plums dried on the branch. The deer picked up their heads to stare. The frozen earth held their cloven steps from wetter days. The white girders shimmered like glass in the distance. Song birds fell in their imagination.” 

“Things My Father Would Never Say (cont.) / ‘at the end of the day, / it’s such a privilege to be a dad’”

“the poem appeared / as a flash / an elk / sipping / at the milk pond / I hurried not to forget / the taste.” 

“Our sisterhood can be so heavy, and tonight their hands seem extra small in mine.”

"Every day I am breaking the previous version of self." 

“My mother viewed everything I did as a rebellion.”

“And so we declared it beautiful,

this broken world we inherited

and couldn’t put back together again.”

“She was right but, tongue like a knife, she wasn’t trying to help.” 

“When I wanted to say something important, nothing came."