By Donna Seto
Published in 16.3
An acquaintance of mine once asked where I had parked my Mercedes. My initial response was that I didn’t own a Mercedes or a car for that matter. He responded with utter confusion, … more »
By Donna Seto
Published in 16.3
An acquaintance of mine once asked where I had parked my Mercedes. My initial response was that I didn’t own a Mercedes or a car for that matter. He responded with utter confusion, … more »
By Telihard Paradela
Published in 16.3
C.E. (CHRIS) GATCHALIAN DESCRIBES his new play, Falling in Time, as the most ambitious play he has ever written. “No play has ever taken so much out of me as this play has,” … more »
By Evelyn Lau
Published in 16.2
In Summerland, the hours of silence are long.
Even this one life, said to be over in a day,
holds space that stretches to the horizon.
Abundance, then a harvest of loss—
berries … more »
By Jim Nawrocki
Published in 16.2
Fuji hides, silent now like an empty cricket cage.
veiled by torn-edge clouds, That night, I walk over dark stone
a rain gray sky draped under drizzle as boats drop lanterns
over emergences … more »
By Loretta Seto
Published in 16.4
From a dark night of the soul to a play ready to face the world, Valerie Sing Turner has proved that she is here to stay.
VALERIE SING TURNER is a woman of endless … more...
By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4
The Origin of Cherries
The Bing cherry was named after Ah Bing, Chinese foreman in 1870s Oregon.
In the photograph he looks small, taut
like a dead magpie that lies on a cool … more »
By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4
Widow
he is here for a moment, then gone
she stays a little while longer
eating onions with red rims, purple smiles
dreaming of one who slipped on an edge near the river… more »
By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4
Coast: July
I press a finger at the fading pulse
of your indifference a stalk entwined with veined tendrils,
the swell of globed...
By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4
Yellow Woman
for Leslie Marmon Silko
she speaks of the sparseness of the bees
who visit in the frenzy of season’s shift
seeking veins of water before the summit
of high noon heat. … more »
By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4
Min, Mine
ghosts are
sentient, austere, ancestral
like ceramic dust, but heavy as bone-meal
seaweed tangle, the cool blue overpass,
the bent grass, the long looks backwards
but it is not anger, a … more »