Poetry

Thinking of home, / I wonder where it lies. / Among mirror strangers or / foreign friends.
She sings to the fathers, Cognac in hand, / cursing the bastards (There are many, on all sides) / who'd taken down the country.
You’d think the fell they monged would be / day’s cut, mountain ash & red gum, hard / lumber sluiced down the river named / Falls, over the falls named Dight...

Im Lặng – Silence

Our bodies like empty vases / Each in our own corner / Covering faces with hands / Each crying alone in our own hearts... Chiếc bình thân thể rỗng / Mỗi người đứng một góc / Tự ôm lấy mặt mình / Lẻ loi riêng mình khóc...
A goal of my poetry is to explore each complicated avenue of my identity as it manifests and conflicts with another avenue, to acknowledge all the problems and joys being Vietnamese-American. I can mourn for the loss of a homeland and empathize with my mother’s loss of country at the same time I can keep in mind the South Vietnamese persecution of Buddhists.
Part poem. Part fluent. Part Viet. Part not. These visual diaries are my way of understanding the complexity of being in two separate places at the same time.