Not the way we do. As a refuge, as a moment of silence, as an interlude through mirrors, through cold. As a breathless moment with which to blot on two coats of lipstick and splash cold water on the cheekbones. … Read More
A green restaurant, any time, really. Cigarettes on the ground outside, Sticky floors and fuzzy black mats. Customers scattered like seeds, Two clumped at the bar. Squeaking seats, a shared Shirley Temple. Salads and sandwiches drifting from Table to … Read More
what do you get a man for his birthday “what is your love language?” father hugged me mother kissed me that is what you say when you don’t know how to love. I never had my room four eyes blinked … Read More
the sun sets its sorry self behind the dining hall & the clouds above the roof are pink like gently-used gauze. i close my eyes and try to remember how it feels when things are beautiful. on the widow’s walk … Read More
the other night i dreamed of a door that opened to a hill on a hill with one thousand prayer flags tied to the trees and the sun burning the earth making your lips shine iridescent with spit or something … Read More
I am the empty stadium in your dreams, warmly lit by orange peel flowers, domes flaring. My flesh swells in Quiet bloom. To see the infinitive ceiling while it’s dry, I jump into the hole of the Joyceian dog’s … Read More
I’m not going to force your name–– Mother → Mommy → Eomoni → 어머니 → Eomma → 엄마–– because I never called you that. I never called you anything. For all your shifts you were the same, twisting every … Read More
after Alan Michael Parker it starts as a rash hungover past the yellow line i blur into a stroller on the far platform we threw out anything remotely half-used: my bedsheets lay limp, like bedsheets egg whites crease on themselves … Read More
Yes to the catchup, I saw your text, I’m just not sure about which day I’m free yet, but I’ll reply soon No, of course. No worries. Looking forward! But I’m just not sure about which day My hands … Read More
after “Howl” (1956) by Allen Ginsburg I saw the best minds of my generation locked-in scribbling syllables at desks in the basement C floor of Firestone library covered in a lifetime’s layer of dust, who skipped last month’s Labyrinth … Read More
To diagnose someone means they’re already sick. We need more time, I tell my investors––Kissinger and the other men. It can only happen in blood. I don’t give stories or specificities. Silicon Valley means you create the outline and let … Read More
Leaves cascade from the oak, to which my parents swore, stems diseased by my sins? I trace the veins anyway, hoping they will lead me to their quiet, promised land. It lies within a barren forest. where whispers linger, … Read More
