your blood goes picnicking at a grave
            brooms and burnt paper in hand

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At Qīngmíng only the magnolia huā (花)
bloomed munificent white against a grey curb.
Like the first mourner at a mythic funeral
you—little (华)… more »

Oh, it has its triumphs,

But look at its countless defeats,

Missed blows,

And repeat attempts!

             — Wislawa Szymborska, “On Death, Without Exaggeration”

Collage by Kristina Corre

Collage by Kristina Corre

The room was dank because the plywood walls were not thick enough to more »

on the train i see my grandfather | as a young man

10,247 km of water | seven seats away

looking through his reflection | at darkened mountains and doubled stars

ye ye | but that’s not his name


more »