“Together we are as mighty as our ancestors up from the dead.”

By huiying b. chan
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Poetry

REPEAT: you stay up memorizing all the twists and turns of a ‘proper’ / enunciation and still your tongue fails you the morning after, syllables / flopping in your mouth like a dead fish, cleaved in shame.

Poetry

Kutenun seikat mimpi / dari telapak pemigi | I weave a bundle of dreams / from the palm of the pemigi loom

Poetry

거울로 들어가는 문을 찾지 못해 / 내게는 오늘의 밤이 계속된다 | Since I / can’t find the door, the night ceases to end

Poetry

O ngồi đó chờ đợi một linh hồn lạ mặt vẫn còn sống/ như cánh-đồng-tử-cung của bình minh | O sits there waiting for an unknown soul that is still alive / like a uterus-meadow at dawn

Poetry

The cypress that grows up straight / sweetly represents my beloved’s the stature. / How can I compare his stature to a cypress? / The cypress is sweetly stuck in the mud of astonishment.

Poetry

lord, please gift me that same wonder. / to pause hunger for a larger suspension

Poetry

Through the radio speakers / I hear a woman shivering. I think of my friend, newly pregnant, / also on her way to work, how she’ll twist a ring off her swollen finger.

Poetry

A golden teardrop in the making. The skin stretched pale and translucent, leaving the flesh to its own devices in an increasingly dangerous season. The fruit will not travel far.

Poetry

stories that seethe in the blood: a lion / that slumbers in the copper pillar of her / body.

Poetry

I would never have to shed my skin / in my leaving.

Poetry

Anahita’s head weighs 10 kilograms. Her hand, extended forward yet / disconnected from the bust, holds a fragment of drapery.

Poetry

And who could forget / when he declared he was going to marry himself, /showing up to Barnes and Noble in a wedding dress

Poetry

និស្វាសវាត / អស្សាសវាត / បស្សាសនៃ / ខ្យល់ចេញមិនចូល | In, out, held – / so goes the breath. / Winds leave but no longer come

Poetry

今夜我抱着我妈 今夜我唱着夜曲 | Tonight I hold my mother in my arms

Poetry

But the children are frolicking inside the palace of their mother’s empty stomach. They can’t say whether it’s day or night.

Poetry

At the door, like a dog. / I waited for love. / The heart / was a station / where evenings stopped.

Essays

Even though you didn’t say “no” in what you’ve been told is the “right” way to say no, you were saying no.

Poetry

I want to be sustained by a world that we create

Poetry

REPEAT: you stay up memorizing all the twists and turns of a ‘proper’ / enunciation and still your tongue fails you the morning after, syllables / flopping in your mouth like a dead fish, cleaved in shame.

Poetry

I would never have to shed my skin / in my leaving.

Poetry

Anahita’s head weighs 10 kilograms. Her hand, extended forward yet / disconnected from the bust, holds a fragment of drapery.

Poetry

Kutenun seikat mimpi / dari telapak pemigi | I weave a bundle of dreams / from the palm of the pemigi loom

Poetry

And who could forget / when he declared he was going to marry himself, /showing up to Barnes and Noble in a wedding dress

Poetry

거울로 들어가는 문을 찾지 못해 / 내게는 오늘의 밤이 계속된다 | Since I / can’t find the door, the night ceases to end

Poetry

និស្វាសវាត / អស្សាសវាត / បស្សាសនៃ / ខ្យល់ចេញមិនចូល | In, out, held – / so goes the breath. / Winds leave but no longer come

Poetry

O ngồi đó chờ đợi một linh hồn lạ mặt vẫn còn sống/ như cánh-đồng-tử-cung của bình minh | O sits there waiting for an unknown soul that is still alive / like a uterus-meadow at dawn

Poetry

今夜我抱着我妈 今夜我唱着夜曲 | Tonight I hold my mother in my arms

Poetry

The cypress that grows up straight / sweetly represents my beloved’s the stature. / How can I compare his stature to a cypress? / The cypress is sweetly stuck in the mud of astonishment.

Poetry

But the children are frolicking inside the palace of their mother’s empty stomach. They can’t say whether it’s day or night.

Poetry

lord, please gift me that same wonder. / to pause hunger for a larger suspension

Poetry

At the door, like a dog. / I waited for love. / The heart / was a station / where evenings stopped.

Poetry

Through the radio speakers / I hear a woman shivering. I think of my friend, newly pregnant, / also on her way to work, how she’ll twist a ring off her swollen finger.

Essays

Even though you didn’t say “no” in what you’ve been told is the “right” way to say no, you were saying no.

Poetry

A golden teardrop in the making. The skin stretched pale and translucent, leaving the flesh to its own devices in an increasingly dangerous season. The fruit will not travel far.

Poetry

stories that seethe in the blood: a lion / that slumbers in the copper pillar of her / body.

Poetry

I want to be sustained by a world that we create