selected PUBLICATIONS:

WILDNESS (forthcoming)
to talk with you

STORYSCAPE (forthcoming)
the city has many names but never the one you call out

BEST NEW POETS 2019 (forthcoming)
the coming of spring in the time of martial law

HIGH SHELF PRESS OCTOBER 2019
exodus: hong kong

AURORA WINTER 2019
women, arriving

INDIANA REVIEW ISSUE 41.1
the floods of summer 2018

ASIAN AMERICAN WRITERS’ WORKSHOP
inheritance
when you plant a seed in vietnam it grows and grows

FRONTIER POETRY
how often I have chosen love (chapbook)

WINNER OF THE JUXTAPROSE 2018 POETRY PRIZE
if beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
search by no light

THE SOUTHAMPTON REVIEW
december 13, 2016

AESTHETICA CREATIVE WRITING ANTHOLOGY
easier if we cried

SPITTOON
you’re the one who left but I want to talk about me
13:11 JST
in which we have never returned from our wars
only saying
we don’t say what if

TOKYO POETRY JOURNAL VOL. 6
tokyo in the way of invisible cities
indian summer

WINNER OF THE 2018 NEW MILLENIUM WRITING AWARD FOR POETRY
the nation of aphasia

THE SHANGHAI LITERARY REVIEW - "CONCRETE"
in which we open the box marked home to find eternity inside

THE BRIAR CLIFF REVIEW VOL. 30
the worth of a woman's life in china

ASIAN AMERICAN WRITERS' WORKSHOP
ornithomancy

GRAIN MAGAZINE ISSUE 44.1
and hong kong in 2001 was always this shade of light blue

REDIVIDER JOURNAL ISSUE 14.1
the nation of aphasia
the girls of harbin

6.jpg

what is there to say about autumn mornings
and wonderfully fuzzy stalks of pampas grass
about the starlight that is inevitable and cats
in their asiatic velvet. what is there to say about
the world that spins a roulette of cruelties
and relief, shining joy and imperturbable horror
occasionally in turns, occasionally overwhelmingly
parenthetical disappointments that sit
in the mouth like salt. fevers white in the sun
and silences that shrill between violences

of people you will leave in different directions
then come across again years later 
on a one way-street in your hometown
you will have changed by then
I wonder how you will change
I wonder how the wind will throw your hair
in the exact directions of your journeys

victoria, october 2017

 
Photo 2017-01-15, 12 42 55 AM.jpg

in the passage time crosses to meet our bodies
live simple dreams—fresh grapefruit
washed rice, linens crisp with heat
someone who likes the way you laugh
being alive in the same desperate time

the glow wrapped around your wrists
look like fingers of starlight reaching down
to feel a pulse

tokyo, september 2019 

7.jpg

I thought how nice it’d be
if there was just nothing at all, when I really couldn’t bear
to make one more hair appointment. and okay, I wanted
to believe in god. or I wanted god to talk to me
while he undresses the moon. small pieces
of clothing. I wanted to hear about everyone’s life summed up
on a plate of food, vinegared tomatoes or gefilte fish or
sugarcane broken straight from the ground into forearm-sizes
by my father. and church is uninteresting
but I still wanted someone to explain
peonies. or at least, absolute idealism. I wanted to convince people
that things could just be beautiful without having
to believe it myself. the way hot garbage bags smoked
in the november air, perfectly ripe
persimmons, their wild seed. or when leeching sea-waves tear
like white static against the sand. sometimes
it was silver. I thought it was so nice
how sometimes people will rest their fevering heads
against a cold window. I could watch it happen
forever. and why aren’t all blue things as blue
as the water of indoor swimming pools? or
all yellow things as yellow as
squirt-bottle mustard? someone’s sitting with a tape recorder,
trying to catch the rain. I think I wanted
maybe a shoulder to tap, an ear to tell
these things to.

palermo, september 2018

IMG_4352.JPG

upon terracotta rooftops
eternity touches briefly on
the light, hindered
a moment in love
with its own fatality
and doorways appearing
as we stepped through them.

walking too much
resembled flying
I was convinced I could see
bones in the air still holding
the day up like something
had stripped time clearly
of her flesh.

beijing, june 2017