We know our place and keep to it. We believe our place to be all places. We find the crack like water. We crawl. We beg. We scream. We tapdance. We sing. We sing. We sing.
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
Excerpt from “To My Great-Granddaughter, Who Will Find This Letter When I Am Dead” from Patchwork Dolls
First, find uncolonized land. If that is not available to you, soil that is mostly left untreated—preferably even abandoned—will suffice.
From the Archives: Preludes
“According to the local bloggers, the latest census identified 98118, the Rainier Valley in South Seattle, as the most diverse zip code in the US.”
From the Archives: Xiaogui / 小鬼
This is a different kind of dark than the one beneath a bedcover, more like the one inside a fist, a dark where we can’t see our own arms and can pretend for a while that we haven’t yet been booted from our mothers by that god who gets paid to kick girls out of the womb...
From the Archives: 물귀신 | Mul Gwishin
Noh Eunbi dies in a ditch in Delaware, and you will see her ghost.
A Manual for ASL Students
(Advice to ASL students: If the deaf person teaches you a sign, do not thank them again and again. Simply repeat the sign and remember it.)
From the Archives: Pigeon Forge
Beatriz feels alarmingly soft in your hands, and you graze her body with your palms the way you would pet the long grass by the river where you live. She tosses her dark hair aside, wraps her hand over yours, and clenches down on her own flesh.
