Raymond K. Nakamura writes, draws cartoons, and develops fun learning opportunities about science and Japanese Canadian history and culture, when he is not washing the dishes, walking the dog, …
she left clues, memories, dots of inhabitance: a man frozen at a cutting board, a woman hanging laundry, a child at the inlet, collecting shiners, all of them making home …
Fireflies were always quite nice to see, for they glowed ever so brightly With beauty comes vulnerability. But people took advantage and trapped them in jars. So that they could …
On Halloween night, my stubborn, nostalgic father clunked out his bashed-up trunk, nodded to my dragon-signed son. Swiftly, they dressed up in their favorite costumes and headed for China Town: …
Millennium gate. Snow, dirtied, clots curbs. Cars drift: junks over Pender; Huangpu runs in asphalt, shimmering with Pacifc brine. Street lamps fooding red, imperial in the half-light, ficker hidden dragons …
The chipped wooden cane of my century-old grandmother beats haphazardly against the damp asphalt drumming to a history of broken dreams fossilized by grey-black gum chewed by absent ancestors. A …
serene cerulean seats sating the rain. she envelops my skin with her pink raincoats covered with salmon factory stains. stains of yonder yearly reawakening from the rain. the rain comes …
Language begins at the crunch of siu yuk, its rugged hide, and continues through the rhythm of laughter, the blues of evening vapor among brass horns hoisting the dizzy swing …
Sitting quietly by the First Narrows remembering The Lost Salmon-Run, of the ravenous yearning for strength, unaware of the consequences that will devastate our community, shattering the solace seen in …
After, you would join others at the beach, greedy for a glimpse of wreckage – barge slammed against seawall, containers like a copper fort bricked against sky. Scrawl of flip-flops, …