Tung-Hui Hu is the author of two collections of poetry, Mine (Ausable Press, 2007) and The Book of Motion (University of Georgia Press, 2003), a Contemporary Poetry Series selection.
Described as a “contained surreal style that deftly shapes a philosophical argument” (Los Angeles Times ), his writing has appeared in places such as The New Republic, Ploughshares, Poetry Daily, and Martha Stewart Living Radio. Hu holds an AB from Princeton and a MFA from the University of Michigan. He lives in San Francisco, where he writes on film and new media.
Here are samples from his forthcoming collection, Greenhouses, Lighthouses.
from THUMB, THROAT, AFFIDAVIT
At this point your credit score
will be helpful. Turn in your old train tickets
and walk the way you have always walked,
feet turned out, heels light as oars.
from DENTIST’S LOVE SONG
Love, the back of your
mouth is visible and delicate
as mushrooms, caves,
or even moths that come out
at night after painting sugar
on tree bark, feathery,
Photo credit: Andrew Moisey