#Sun Yung Shin

[geryone]

The Wet Hex, Sun Yung Shin

[lifeinpoetry]

Let us talk about light. How does your mother pronounce it. How does your father bury it. How does your brother borrow against it, betting everything God promised.

— Sun Yung Shin, from “Behind This Door Is a Siberian Tiger,” The Wet Hex

[morepeachyogurt]

studies of light

1. richard siken | 2. anne carson | 3. giovanni antonio galli | 4. wale ayinla | 5. ada limón | 6. zarina situmorang | 7. ocean vuong | 8. alexander harding | 9. sun yung shin | 10. erin slaughter |

[cor-ardens-archive]

[random-bookquotes]

We are water, we are rivers of descent; gravity is inevitable yet grievable. Mourn as you like, death is another migration.

Sun Yung Shin, The Wet Hex

[smokefalls]

I abandoned all ghosts who entered me with good intentions.

Sun Yung Shin, “The Wolvish Forage” from The Wet Hex

[statiifilia]

Translate This Body into Everything, BY SUN YUNG SHIN

Here I am at the inconvenience store of unspoken words. Rows of soft silence. The produce of our Korean families. Five thousand years + of the People in White. We are the girls who went away, who left memory behind, who ate pebbles and stopped talking. We each need a librarian, an army of + alphabets to keep us warm at night, when our voices stiffen to copper and tin. When our grandmothers dissolve into mist and our grandfathers mold wives out of dirt. + Here we are at the corner of the past and fate no one discovered except American day by American night. Work. Switching faces was easier than trading one tongue for another. + How do we pronounce our skin in English, turn our silences inside out like a fox-fur stole. The Korean fox with nine tails is a demon, always a woman, her heart thick with dreams + of human sacrifice, of the future of nature. Korean girls who slept with the dictionary so they would never be alone, so one day they could give birth to bruises and poetry.

[mariocki]

Ren pi deng long (Human Lanterns, 1982)

"I want to take your life this day!"

"My life was taken seven years ago. The person standing here now is merely a walking corpse."

[basicallyyjustdogs]

series 2: brother

high and dry, radiohead // my photo // behind this door is a siberian tiger, sun yung shin // the promise, marie howe // dioscuri, dante émile (@orpheuslament) // ‘cain and abel’, orazio riminaldi // father time (ft. sampha), kendrick lamar // my photo // seventeen going under, sam fender // father, the front bottoms // untitled, traumatizeddfox // my brother at 3 a.m., natalie diaz // some boys aren’t born they bubble, kaveh akbar // spit of you, sam fender // boot theory, richard siken // portrait of the alcoholic with moths and river, kaveh akbar // you can be mean, indigo de souza // get you down, sam fender // black dog, arlo parks // my photo // hand-me-downs, rachel sabini // ‘the last day of pompeii’, karl bryullov // ‘fallen angel’, alexandre cabanel // used to be friends, searows // the giver, sarah kinsley // a brother named gethsemane, natalie diaz

[yourddoris]

Yung-Hua Chen 2024 SKM PHOTO Joint Exhibition "The Womb"

Exhibition Period: March 7 (Thu) - March 11 (Sun)

Time: 11:00-21:30 (Until 18:00 on 3/11)

Venue: Shin Kong Mitsukoshi Taipei Xinyi New Life Square A11 6F Xinyi Theater (No. 11, Songshou Road, Xinyi District, Taipei)

[geryone]

The Wet Hex, Sun Yung Shin

[lifeinpoetry]

The floor was alive. / I may have been dying. My desire for everything rose and fell and flowered over and over. / My heart, a fathom of black seeds, rich with dark oil.

— Sun Yung Shin, from “In the House of Moths,” The Wet Hex

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of february

brian gyamfi the almost love poem of eloise and kofi

angela jackson and all these roads be luminous: “angel”

sharon olds the promise

laura ma fossil record of a drowning carp

mahmoud darwish the butterfly’s burden: “i didn’t apologise to the well” (tr. fady joudah)

jimmy santiago baca immigrants in our own land: “immigrants in our own land”

james richardson essay on the one hand and on the other

john kinsella peripheral light: selected and new poems by john kinsella: “drowning in wheat”

twyla m. hansen the other woman

monica sok abc for refugees

sumita chakraborty most of the children who lived in this house are dead. as a child i lived here. therefore i am dead

chaelee dalton blood type personality theory

tj jarret of late, i have been thinking about despair

zubair ibrahim siddiqui sun, suna, sunaofying

sun yung shin skirt full of black: “immigrant song”

richard eberhart a dublin afternoon

louise glück aboriginal landscape

michelle cadiz oil and other drugs

hafsa zulfiqar small nightmares i dream in a foreign country

james richardson fire warnings

alberto rios not go away is my name: “immigrant centuries”

n.s. ahmed on becoming memory

andrea krause for our anniversary next year

ajanae dawkins blood-flex

ananya kanai shah my girls & i

aleda shirley the glass lotus

mahmoud darwish almond blossoms and beyond: “think of others”

robert américo esnard dendrochronology of a family tree

buy me a chai latte

[cor-ardens-archive]

Sun Yung Shin, excerpt from The Error of Blood Relation

[emiliosandozsequence]

the wet hex, sun yung shin / supernatural (2005-2020) cr. eric kripke

[smokefalls]

I may have been dying. My desire for everything rose and fell and flowered over and over.

Sun Yung Shin, “In the House of Moths” from The Wet Hex