1977 was an important year of Chinese history. Beloved chairman Mao passed away a year before, and the demise of the Gang of Four ended the most painful history of the Culture revolution. “This country changed every day and night,” the newspaper told people.[…]
Read MoreRain, rain, go away. Come again another day. That’s what all the children say. At least, the other children. But not Maggie. Quiet Maggie welcomes the rain. Throughout her school life, she was known for sitting in the rain for hours. […]
Read MoreI remember when my mom gave me five dollars. Even when I was six, I knew the importance of that amount. One time, my school had a festival and were selling these flowers called “Snap Dragons”. […]
Read MoreShe wiped the little droplets of sweat from her forehead. The steam rose tall like large gates trapping her behind it’s defense. The aroma was normal in her house. The grease popped and hissed against her olive skin and each jerk was a reminder she was stuck doing this until all pieces of chicken were done.[…]
Read Moreall i do is spin spells &
bite bars of sunsets […]
Writer, a woman stopped
breathing once. Because you
couldn’t stop
stirring your fucking coffee[…]
drunk & black i enter your home, following my mother’s scent. i am the poet’s pretty
wound. a man raised me this way- to move in metaphor.[…]
When we lay in bed,
the crux of my body
hinges on your soft edges;
morphed together, tethered magnetism.[…]
for their fifteenth anniversary,
my father built my mother
a vanity.[…]
since childhood,
my body has been a slave to the sweet.
smoking candy cigarettes
and snorting smarties.[…]