Notes of a Native Son

I’m the truest sort of resident. The kind who, / asked to offer proof that he resides here, fails. / The guy who comes from someplace else & thrives… More

A Theory of the Novel

a boy’s attention, corralled / in sand, pebbles, and the sun’s / slow clockwork, fails to take in / the wreckage, though / years from now, he’ll describe it… More

After Meng Hao-jan

In winter I drink tea by the window / Stars shine through my reflection / Occasionally I go out and see if I might / Find another remote and… More