Poetry

the promise of a
new year is in a
bowl of ddukguk,
for every strand of
flesh reveals the
body that wastes
away, every bite
of dduk the coins
fade as the sun
sets, every crunch
of kimchi that sour… more »

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 over
for a vibrant red.

Maple glued in journal,… more »

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 shirts untucked
outside schools. At seventeen we cross over.
Return … more »

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 own domain
like an uncomfortable welcome mat.
If the stones … more »