How to Bury Your Dead by Amin Ahmad

Your grandmother dies one muggy May afternoon in Connecticut, six thousand miles away from her beloved apartment in Calcutta, India. She dies alone in a hospital room. Your moon-faced grandmother is not wearing the crisp white widow’s sari that she has always worn. She has removed the ivory bangle that she wears to help her [Continue Reading…]

The Order of Things by C. Dale Young

There were many things Alejandro Castillo did not know. For a start, he did not know his given name or the people who were his parents. In this, he was one who embraced mystery not because he had that special talent but because he had no choice. When Father Guillermo Rojas found him on the streets of that [Continue Reading…]

Letter to Carlos Bulosan, September 2015

  Dear Carlos— To get from Tacoma, where I live, to your gravesite in the Mount Pleasant Cemetery, in the Queen Anne neighborhood of Seattle, entails a drive of thirty-eight miles. Halfway between Tacoma and Seattle is the Southcenter Mall. Seafood City, a supermarket that primarily caters to Filipinos, anchors one arm of the mall’s [Continue Reading…]

Ryan Lee Wong

‘Everyone Does It’ Just Won’t Do   Yes, Everyone Can Be Stupid for a Minute Everyone Speaks Text Message Everyone Seems to Have Cancer   Everyone’s Narcissistic, It Seems Everyone, It Seems, Wants to Buy the Clippers Nose Jobs Aren’t for Everyone Everyone Will Be a TV Station Soon Everyone Looks 10 Pounds Guiltier on [Continue Reading…]

Scott Thurston

Two poems by Kimiko Hahn arrive by email. I’m not familiar with the author, but after reading these spare, difficult poems, ‘In the Spirit of a Sestina’ and ‘From the Clipping Morgue,’ I’m left with the impression that these works are by a young poet, perhaps just starting out. What gives this sense? On reflection [Continue Reading…]

Keijiro Suga

When I read Kimiko’s lines and try to respond I am not addressing Kimiko herself and can only talk to, at best, the girl depicted, bodiless and soulless, just a flickering image that is constantly morphing into something else. But it did happen. The girl’s historicity is undeniable yet she is uncountable and so she is [Continue Reading…]

Wendy Anne Lee

I. Spirit and Form   Kimiko Hahn’s poem opens with an acknowledgment and a riddle. As the title makes clear, the poem does not take the form of a sestina. There will be no kaleidoscopic sestets or plaiting of six end-words, no envoi or tornata to call them together in a final, fitting constellation of [Continue Reading…]

Cressida J. Heyes

Spiderweb   The chief of the Soda Creek Indian Band likened the area touched by the spill to a spiderweb[17]   *   I live in northern Alberta, home of the tar sands—a series of giant pits of mucky bitumen mixed with the earth in a way that is incredibly difficult and destructive to extract. [Continue Reading…]