Kimiko Hahn

Found End Words for a Ghazal 

a hundred black

debut with black

said about black

Monday, black

two-hour discussion of black

many black

swelling Black

why black

emphasis on black

toward black

on a black

Monday, black

if it was a Black

NOTE: phrases are from the article "'Love' and Disbelief Follow Donald Trump Meeting With Black Leaders" by Michael Barbaro and John Corrales, New York Times, 11/30/15.


from the Brittle Process series

Jittered Density Plot

At Pere Lachaise, division 94, I paid my respects to Gertrude Stein, her plot the least jittery and least dense what with tiny stones and buttons set atop modest marble. I guess I saw Jim Morrison's—certainly graffiti pointing in his direction. Jitters aside, there was no need, at that moment, to leave a tulip in Victor Noir's hat.


Brittle Process, i.

The red ball is posted. And still you lace up your skates, the dingy scuffed white ones that belonged to Meggie, then me. Next Yoko. After that, maybe Susie. Katie. And down the street, Chrissie. Mary. Patti. Debbi. Sandy. Sandee. Peggy. And up the hill to Lizzie, Bethy, Ellie, Barbie. Kathy and Cathy. Terry. Cindy. Janie. Angie. Jenny. All testing thin ice.  


Brittle Process, ii. 

Not peanut or pecan. Not the stirring. To be stirred. Which is to say: not able "to resist damage or degrade gracefully," she could not help cracking open processes. Further, there is also a brittle star. The brain, however, is not brittle. I am not. I am not fragile as a father, faint-hearted as a husband. 



If you are afraid to shake the dice, you will never throw a six. Every Friend Joys in your Success. Happiness is an activity. Cookie says, "You crack me up!" Wisdom in on her way to you.


Damaged Intelligence

I do not see trees, I see pointillism. I do not see three barn windows, I see motifs. I do not see a beach, I see fine texture. Or coarse. I do not see I do not see a hoarder’s home, I see material for collage. Such is the nature of the artist's daughter. 



Around midnight, on the dog's last poo, I point my flashlight toward her poo-spot and squiggling night-crawlers slip into their holes. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. One thing I don’t get: if they have male and female sex organs, why do they need special bristle-like hairs to anchor the mate during penetration. But, I'm not keen on reading up on their anatomy just to get the picture. 

NOTE: the titles are from Cognitive Science Dictionary, University of Alberta


KimikoHahnby Beowulf Sheehan.jpeg

Author Bio

Kimiko Hahn is the author of nine collections of poetry, including Brain Fever and Toxic Flora. Both of these were triggered by fields of science in the same way previous work was triggered by Asian American identity, women's issues, black lung disease, and personal grief.  She teaches in the MFA Program in Creative Writing and Literary Translation at Queens College, CUNY and is President of the Board, The Poetry Society of America.