your blood goes picnicking at a grave brooms and burnt paper in hand 4/4/[2000 + 4×4] At Qīngmíng only the magnolia huā (花) bloomed munificent white against a grey curb. …
Category:
Poetry
You would make me choose to press autumn hues between pages of The Invisible Man, or to jump in piles of reds and yellows but never to turn two leaves …
In Pakistan, grey smoke stacks curl up to sun. Skin browns on roadside as we throw makai into each other’s mouths. Eyes sting from rising flame, salt, chilli powder. Uniform …
A fallen giant of imperial industry, with a toe in every peasant’s backyard, lonely, despite the people living in it. Lost rocks of an empire litter the expanse of its …
on the train i see my grandfather | as a young man 10,247 km of water | seven seats away looking through his reflection | at darkened mountains and doubled …
In the end, the chair has lost its owner. The chair grinds out bad cells, the wind on the chair is caught in the throat as it takes …
the radio producers dilemma driving my derelict mazda home after a shift visors down to keep the electric sky from crashing my car its 1246 and i …
speaking in tongues misinterpretation ghosts-back, attempts to reincarnate the broken language of Jaden’s tongue-twist reverberation— murmur the revenant-named co bac mispronounce it twice as fast go back diaspora synth-talk— …
My father is resting alone beneath the sacred lights, while I cradle in dismay, surrounded by Elders coercing me to compose and read him a eulogy at the altar. His …
great macro swelling carpet bomb ecosystem broken off broken twice off in say one century of your time slow fish peer up against throbbing nights, fragile glass bodies a perception …