Two Poems by Tam Nguyen
what do we have? a hologram of blood / sanctimoniously held on a pedestal with too much pride to neglect.
The Disciple
By Wong Chun Ying
She was surprised to see that he still smoked the same cigarettes, after all these years. It was what she used to run to get for him, when he started getting jittery and started pacing in the editorial room. Marlboro Black Menthol “without legs,” ng jiu goek.
Two Poems by Jonathan Chan
the misty layer bears no forethought / of sorrow. it hovers over the / clearing and the stream, just as the / yawn of daylight scatters over / vines and fans of leaves.
Two Poems by Jocelyn Li
Kindle our fury, keep us bubbling / in a wok of absurdity for too long / and nothing will astonish us anymore.
Our Mother
By Ned Carter Miles
This year was my turn to light the fire, and I chose to do it on top of a rough black stone that looked unmistakably like Ernest Borgnine—the same roundness and folds. No one else knew, but earlier that day I’d come to the beach in our mother’s car and caught…
Two Poems by Sharon Black
Like a loaf of bread in a birdcage you chase me and I run / like a sheet of beeswax rolled into a candle.
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Cicada 