May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month
Ching Chang Chong Ching-ching is the sound of a cash register: the sound of money. It’s the sound of an American dream achieved by a Chink. But the Chink named Chang dreamed a pipe dream of fame only to pave a track to gold not meant for oriental freaks, because they were 虫, insects, and an invasive species from the Pacific named the yellow peril and came in terrifying rising tides that never grew weak. - Sappy
The River Man
at the riverside
I saw arches of rocks
which told the water where to flow
about the pattern, I asked the girl beside me
she said a river man picked up heavy stones, guiding the water downstream
she asked, and he answered with tired eyes
“leaving a mark before I go”
I know it isn’t full yet
Missing that faint yellow glow
That let’s you see the craters and
Haunted wonder at its silent ascent
But this has been eight months
In the making, a note from the first
Evening spent walking out from a
New room where I could watch the stars
And you never know quite when the clouds,
When the cold, will return, so now
I stretch my arms out and let the
Waxing moon shine down on me
Trace the Big Dipper I can find in that
Space the lamps don’t quite reach
Think of those last few scenes of
Dragons, monochrome zombies, and laughter
60s celebrations and musical mockeries of Apollo
At two theatres I remember
Through stored ticket stubs
And see how the marquee and the moon
Mix together tonight
[referring to how late she woke up] I can only have one bad day so I have to be on top of it today.
Well, I’m young and stupid, so I’ve got more time to waste.
BMV, 6:30PM, 2/28/2024
two voices, mine and yours.
—and why should i? you’re chasing your dreams while i’m chasing my tail, spinning in circles, dizzy from embarrassment. too proud to look you in the eye. it was always a game, wasn’t it? get off the playground. swing and miss, face-up, the sky salting the wound with its mosaic of stars–
my alarm rings. every morning i notice how there is only one voice, how it only speaks when spoken to. i don’t know who wins; i never do. if a thought had a mouth, would it scream?
I need melatonin to sleep. If I don’t take melatonin, I get nightmares.
Mosher-Jordan Dining Hall, 6:30PM, 3/29/2024
i am greeted by the clothes deforming like plastic in the sun, an uncanny valley of furniture molded around the faces, your face, no face at all. i unbutton my shirt and count eight scars splayed across my chest, as if a creature had climbed the ladder of my ribcage from the inside and latched on to my heart. i feel the irregular beats now, a warning that my pulse does not pump alone. i make my breakfast in silence and look at the window. i see a single spider sitting in its fractured web, watching. waiting.
I’ve made so many mistakes since having him… he’s five months old and doesn’t like to sleep, which means I don’t get to sleep either.
AADL Downtown, 12:00PM, 4/20/2024
it seems humans are born with the innate sense of death. sometimes i equate the resistance to sleep as the resistance to death and i wonder whether a child would make the connection as well. we cannot recast reality in our sleep; we cannot extract truth from our visions. our dreams lie with the size of a single breath. perhaps death pays a visit every night and pulls against the thread of the universe. pick a card, pick a side, pick your brain. the dice clatter against the floor, but when i open my eyes there is nothing there. we are all alone in the night, sleeping among the silence and the spiderwebs.
What I would give
to walk with you
through flowerbeds
and grass patches
into riverbeds
lined with stones
on great rocks
and canyons
within deep forests
sounding with bird songs
what I would give
is everything
As the days go on, I can see
Carpenter bees and painted ladies
Fly from one pale blossom to the next
As a chorus of frogs sound in the
Marshes I’m just now beginning to
Wander through
Seeking those new paths from
Picking a direction and wondering
How far I can go with a friend or two
Tulip sunsets blooming from patchwork city soil
And curated reminders of maize and blue
And I’ll go through graveyards and theatres, cafes and Kerrytown
One more arboretum trail, one more crafted carnival, one more night
Walking the same loop, tracking constellations in those
Spaces between lamps, singing together after the stage lights go dark,
Rolling dice and trying out new names
Enjoying that welcome that was always there
With the ones who gave it
Trying to take it in as the clouds start to clear
And it will hurt to miss it all
But that means there’s something worth missing
And I’m glad I get to celebrate it in the sun
Because I know both will be back soon enough
