“…the hairdresser took out a small brown vial from her apron pocket, like a wicked witch scene from a Disney movie. Margot lay down on the large, cushioned sofa the color of old blood….” Continue reading at Referential Magazine.
“In a world where male-female transactions always seem to be laced with suspicion, tension, mixed messages and latent motivations, the rapport built between a sweaty man and woman going at it as boxers was a rare and liberating treasure.” Continue reading at Atticus Review.
“…Her velvet ears and velvet nose Ask to be fingered. Her organs Thaw the ice outside Because it’s winter….” E-publication by Cactus Heart Press.
“I grit my teeth and prayed to the man above that I would not pass out here at the subway stop, dear God please, not here outside my home in front of so many strangers….” Continue reading at Hamilton Stone Review.
“He initiated a crusade to annihilate identity by systematically removing the native language from every ear, tongue, and eye.” Continue reading at Palaver (p. 47-56)
“You labor through vivid dreams about shedding yourself like a too-tight snakeskin and donning her personhood with relief, the only salve for your madness. Because everything about you is wrong and inadequate. “ Continue reading at Sleet Magazine.
“…the leaves blew back on spotted trees, yet the branches stilled, on which you sat in hiding with your knived teeth pointed at that tightbody….” Continue reading at Visitant Lit.
“This woman who birthed me…refused to let us know how and what had conquered her agency that morning. Something had finally torn through her root….” Continue reading at Cleaver Magazine.
“He would study her figure with predatory precision, settling his eyes on her hair and lips and the way her clothing moved as she walked. Such lingering and chasmal watching. “ Continue reading at The Flexible Persona.
Washington, DC, Slipform Poetry Workshop participant and contributor to the Moon Salt Poetry Chapbook. “…Dreams forgotten, giving, hiding in a hole, poking out; that shotgun in the boot; being struck by lightning. How good dreams are….” (Excerpt from the poem, Erasure)
“Barely attainable, this; mere fragment of thread, sheer membrane looming between toes spread. Empty the head, fill in with white. I cannot will enlightenment….” Continue reading at Eclectica Magazine.
“And so we remained, not touching or speaking. The air conditioning continued to whistle from the upper vents. White blood cells continued to mass and deluge within.” Continue reading at Inertia Magazine.
“A musty corner inside of me relished imagining his voice on the death bed, to get such a confirmation of his mortality, and the knowing that he knows of it.” Continue reading at BlazeVOX.
“…and this is where it begins, dear Freud, this genetic, inherited smoke is heady and thick, and this is why your pipe is stuck between my eyes—“ Order the Yellow as Turmeric, Fragrant as Cloves: A Contemporary Anthology of Asian American Women’s Poetry here.