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: …
Poetry
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, …
My identity is held together by a series of dashes, A jumbled code only some understand. And only some will understand the pain of being held together by wiry stitches. …
A drizzle, a dash, a sprinkle of fine oil on heated pans Harmonious rhythms ring from the band playing on the stage Warmth flutters up in your chest The heat …
Filthy water Squalid streets From filth they bloom Morning dew delicately sat on a petal Industrious tears fill the eyes of Chinese pioneers An arduous odyssey A one man’s journey …