Limits

“Maybe your parents are just limited when it comes to this.” Mr. Howell spoke slowly from the chair he had somehow managed to squeeze out from his desk and turn, to face me. My senior year English teacher’s office was so small, one of us had to stand. In between periods, in the middle of… More

West of Schenectady

Chen Chen The sun sets like a whispered regret behind the hills or is that a mountain. Moths come to the screen door as if that was what they were made for. Moth for screen door. & vice versa. I don’t have time for their secrets tonight. I am making my loneliness small. So small… More

They were selling phoenixes

Chen Chen in the form of untransformed ash. In the middle of a Costco in Connecticut, I said Gimme. You said, Let’s do the most New England thing we can think of. Let’s go sailing in khaki shorts. I’ll bring the chowder, you bring our phoenix. Our phoenix would increase productivity by fashioning a new… More

Elegy

Chen Chen My shoes were growing more powerful with each day. I walked in the country of letters, its fields of eyes belonging to my lost sister— dark eyes that early closed, or forgot to open. I have not been back in some time, though often I walk to my office, daydreaming of that country’s… More