look at this rocky playground, where we scraped knees to leave them bleeding, then outgrown the stagnant navy blue and white uniforms, blown into different directions, flying away- until divine …
Category:
Poetry
i twist the spines of my mother’s green onion stems products of caramelized trauma spun into salted relationships through my busy thumbs gluing her past to my present in a …
One step through the door and the stove turns on. The welcoming home hands slice Julienne style, tossing, mixing, ruminating on the taste of being together. Put in more eggs, …
I keep a faded box of Chinese language cards on the bottom shelf of a basement bookcase. The box is almost as old as me, the cover once bright …
1 At age four, I entered a world completely foreign to my Chinese roots At the long dining room table of my Argentinian babysitter’s home I sipped mate through a …
I Cumulus clouds drift above the canopy of leaves shading tireless workers. Rows of bountiful produce in a pastoral landscape where the passage of light measures time. Thrifty, makeshift furrows …
……………….. ……………after Amy Chua An accent is a sign of bravery, of journey, celebrated or unsung— a mark of freedom from the slavery of thinking in a single siloed tongue. …
How did I get so blue? Events, free food, and friends galore. It infects my fingertips and rushes through. This novelty lasted until nothing was true— the college kid’s book, …
when my poems come in english, i wonder maybe i could dance in these. big mistakes white english has a way to police the foreign tongue every sentence a battleground. …
I am the sorrow of the perpetual outsider, Carried on through centuries of pain. Still hearing the echoes of souls once silenced, From signs that read, “No Indians, Chinese, or …