Hope is the Thing With Feathers A Burning Haibun Here, April means storms. But that day, no one expected hail to bullet out of an open-mouthed sky. It rolled off the neighboring roofs, ricocheted into…
Browsing Category Prose, Poetry, and Art
Kneeling in a pew, the straw-strewn
Sheep fell outside herselfpink anemone protrusion pinktongue splat wide between molarsa yell like a horn or stripeof gummy candy. O matted warmbody, curled around youngclumps of boneless massMother As we kneel, our elbows redin your…
Day Late Chuseok Greeting
She tells me it is a feast day because it is a day to honor the ancestors. She says ancestors in English and I can’t name the emotion I feel; if shame has an ambivalence,…
I Hide When the FedEx Man Parks Outside my Apartment
I do not want him to see me sitting in my recliner by the window. Only I am aware of this secret—that I ordered furniture online because it would be too heavy for me to…
Duck Blood Soup
The jar looks to be full of swamp water. Its contents swirl and leave grit on the glass when you turn it over in your hands. “Duck blood soup,” explains your mother. “Czernina.” It always…