Author Archives: heartbluestockings

About heartbluestockings

All posts are original intellectual property. Copyright 2010 Hae Jung Kwon. All rights reserved.

Lies, Knives and Girls in Red Dresses, Reviewed

She Recommends: “Lies Knives and Girls in Red Dresses by Ron Koertge, pronounced (KUR-chee) (Candlewick Press, 2012); 88 pgs; 17.99; hardcover illustrated by Andrea Deszo If prose poetry or novels in free verse is news, you are in good hands … Continue reading

Posted in Bibliotherapy, Media Reviews | Tagged | 1 Comment

Mirror Work

When someone punches you, the face swells When someone screams at you,  the face swells after she/(y)/ou spills her/self/you of water, moisture, life    through the eyes, nose, lips The face swells.   Scared before her/ y’own reflection.   The mirror … Continue reading

Posted in Cultural Criticisms, Dating Korean, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Odd Girl Hums “Hakuna Matata”

On a good day, I spend a couple of hours reading passionately and crying when I properly touched by truths. I constrain myself by reading other’s work and not writing myself dry.  Typing and writing for hours is something I … Continue reading

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The Paris Review

The joyous reading of these interviews is drawing blood and life up to the surfaces and I am encouraged by my tribe.  They are persons of intellectual breath, humor, subtlety and distance from my original family tree but they speak … Continue reading

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“As much as we can embody”

I picked up Ernest Holmes’ The Science of Mind for a word or phrase a kite to fly against the grey that appear on the film of my consciousness when I think upon my fill in the blank life.    … Continue reading

Posted in Korean Quotient, What the Pho? | Leave a comment

Danielle’s Grandma in the Apartment

“We are all equal, humble and acting democratically typing away until there is a wetness of untapped feeling  a jump from the gut to the throat because the spirited come to accompany at the bottom of the bed as an … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Shadows and Spirit, What the Pho? | 1 Comment

“May I be Frank?”/ “Hi, Frank.”

These days seem to blur when the Writer does not write home to the Mother.  It’s been a week since my last shared post and the Writing Child has gone almost mute from the slow leak of poetry and beauty from the tit.  … Continue reading

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