nancy kang

By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4



he is here for a moment, then gone
she stays a little while longer

eating onions with red rims, purple smiles
dreaming of one who slipped on an edge near the river… more »

By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4


Coast: July


I press a finger                                                                           at the fading pulse
of your indifference                                                                 a stalk entwined with veined tendrils,
the swell of globed thoughts                                                                     pungent as crushed garlic

little bellies, each of … more »

By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4


Yellow Woman

for Leslie Marmon Silko

she speaks of the sparseness of the bees
who visit in the frenzy of season’s shift
seeking veins of water before the summit
of high noon heat. … more »

By Nancy Kang
Published in 16.4


Min, Mine

ghosts are
sentient, austere, ancestral
like ceramic dust, but heavy as bone-meal
seaweed tangle, the cool blue overpass,
the bent grass, the long looks backwards
but it is not anger, a … more »