The air, like always, drips from upside-down pig heads. Drips and drips and coagulates. A basket of dried seahorses is forgotten, tumbles down, caught in a breeze and ba …
Category:
Poetry
i am fifteen. there are things i will often say: i’ll never date an asian guy there are things i will never say: my middle name lok-ling there are lies …
… I thought I could land in a few days. How was I to know I would become a prisoner of suffering in the wooden building? …I only wish I …
Under our great gunvernment which now hates z-turning most our society is a true socialist democrazy full of shitizens (and stupigs) While many a department and its head are trying …
We are pleased to begin Asian Heritage Month with a poem inspired by the Indigenous writer Richard Wagamese by W.B. Akeroyd, which details his musings on his background as a Hapa man growing up …
By: Carolyn Nakagawa The new world Dear summertime, I don’t know the Musqueam word for strawberry, or if there are buttercups in Japan. For me, you have always been that short July season …
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 …
Auto-Facial-Construction by Mina Loy (1882-1966) The face is our most potent symbol of personality. The adolescent has facial contours in harmony with the condition of his soul. Day by day the new interests and activities of modern life are prolonging the youth of our souls, and day by day we are becoming more aware of the necessity for our faces to express that youthfulness, for the sake of psychic logic. Different systems of beauty culture have compromised our inherent right not only to be ourselves but to look like ourselves by producing a facial contour in middle age which does duty as a “well preserved appearance.” This preservation of partially distorted muscles is, at best, merely a pleasing parody of youth. That subtle element of the ludicrous inherent in facial transformation by time is the signpost of discouragement pointing along the path of the evolution of personality. For to what end is our experience of life if deprived of a fitting esthetic revelation in our faces? …
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 …
By Renee Sarojini Saklikar Published in 16.4 growing season / a glossary Dimension: March, 2007 Sound: Trans-Canada Highway Story: Abbotsford Context: farming Vehicle: baggy pants, tunic, scarves Sound: churches …