Latest Writing
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Latest Writing

my first is perhaps the most foreign, yet it is the one of home. Cantonese. She lights the path forward, a promise of return, a call of the motherland beckoning us on. She brings home wayward sailors paddling peeling kayaks packed with families, Canadian-born. Almost at the shore, upset, upstart, unsure, the...

  you turn your head in the shower curve your neck, just so and let the water run down your cheek like a hand cupping your face a palm thrumming with the heartbeat of summer rain.   this is the part where you forget float on steam and the promise of a...

A collection of half-poems written when half-asleep   Have I Said Too Much?          Do not speak of it. We know what happens When things are spoken of.     Is it Salt or Am I Jesus?          Something in my hair I wonder what. Is it salt or am I Jesus? What’s the reason I float?  ...

On her fifth life, Georgia stops trying to save the world.  She gave it her all. She gave it four of her alls, actually; didn't even stop after the lucky third try left her smoldering on the metaphorical barbeque of a distracted amateur griller. Georgia spent...

I want to be a Girl The way that angels are girls: With flowing white cotton hugging waists, Bare feet that won’t be made to bleed by the glass they step on. Ephemeral physicality, but a forever impression. But I am only a girl In that I blush when you say...

Around twelve he slipped into the boardwalk diner; a cheap little place that reeked of nineties sensibilities. He’d had too many beers to pass for sober, but too few to really be drunk. His belly was warm. His vision spun softly when he looked in...