“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”
― Jack Kerouac
I was born in Sa Đéc, Việt Nam, a French colonial town in the Mekong Delta. This was where I learned to walk and talk, where I climbed trees and fell out of trees, where I was bitten by leeches and fire ants, where I taught myself to ride a bicycle, drawing concentric circles in the dirt around a centipede-infested tree trunk.
Delta rain came down suddenly and in warm sheets; the soil steamed, released a fertile mud odor that penetrated all senses. On humid nights, fireflies lit up the dark countryside and a symphony of frogs and crickets provided the soundtrack for my childhood sleep.
On the morning of my ninth birthday, I carried a child-size, cerise suitcase and left on my journey to America. On the walk to the bus station, a stray dog bit my behind; a piece of me stayed wedged between its teeth as it trotted off and disappeared into the bustles of the day.
My poetic instincts are rooted in the malleable redness of Sa Đéc clay and in the vibrations of a scarred land that is both intimately familiar and foreign to me. It is the poetry of the body and of the gut.
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biography
A poet and artist, Samantha Lê emigrated from Sa Đéc, Việt Nam to California at the age of nine. Lê’s image-rich persona poems and dramatic monologues explore subjects of abjection, feminine identity, and the Southeast Asian diaspora experience. Lê holds an MFA in Creative Writing from San José State University. Her publications include Corridors (2001), My Solitude (2003) and Little Sister Left Behind (2007). Her poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals, including: Copper Nickel, Able Muse Review, Common Ground Review, San Pedro River Review, The Suburban Review and The Red Clay Review.
© Samantha Lê. All rights reserved.
