time
slips off my softened skin
and I grow wings.

By Lenna Jawdat
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Poetry

we kiss and karma/ thunders.

Poetry

food/ mutates through cultural/ transmission.

Fiction

Do we need a man? I want to ask her, but her eyes are bright like poppies in summer heat.

Poetry

tangled gold necklaces knotted/ with grief, chains my mother will not break.

Poetry

I call myself “child” now like |/ ghost who calls itself alive.

Poetry

သူတို့မျှော်လင့်နေကြတဲ့/ အနာဂတ်ကို/ ငါတို့ မြင်ခွင့်ရပါ့မလား။ |
do their protests/ sound out a future/
we’ll be able to witness?

Poetry

I’m alive and I have an appetite/ for longing.

Poetry

映 with a skinny sun radical and 其 a pronoun/ pointing to who knows what.

Poetry

What if he just said the bird waited forever to alight.

Poetry

I am the world inside/ of every persimmon

Essays

Recalling the promise of anticolonial internationalism

Essays

Oscar yi Hou doesn’t represent you.

Poetry

“Welcome to Pāʻia” and “Lei La the canoe speaks”

Poetry

“Salon Sonnet” and “Matchmaker”

Poetry

Most schools have cut their French programs,/ but teaching it here sparkles.

Interviews

An interview with Kanya D’Almeida, the cowriter of Russell “Maroon” Shoatz’s memoir.

Poetry

For a second, I imagine how it feels to inhabit a body people desire like gold.

Poetry

Kakolór pati kan álang na tulang nin tawó / an pigrunot na bagás asín ginibong puto. |
Especially when you notice the rice flour / that she uses is the color of human bone.

Poetry

where, fifty, years, earlier, lolo, learned, engineering

Poetry

we kiss and karma/ thunders.

Essays

Recalling the promise of anticolonial internationalism

Poetry

food/ mutates through cultural/ transmission.

Essays

Oscar yi Hou doesn’t represent you.

Fiction

Do we need a man? I want to ask her, but her eyes are bright like poppies in summer heat.

Poetry

“Welcome to Pāʻia” and “Lei La the canoe speaks”

Poetry

tangled gold necklaces knotted/ with grief, chains my mother will not break.

Poetry

“Salon Sonnet” and “Matchmaker”

Poetry

I call myself “child” now like |/ ghost who calls itself alive.

Poetry

Most schools have cut their French programs,/ but teaching it here sparkles.

Poetry

သူတို့မျှော်လင့်နေကြတဲ့/ အနာဂတ်ကို/ ငါတို့ မြင်ခွင့်ရပါ့မလား။ |
do their protests/ sound out a future/
we’ll be able to witness?

Poetry

I’m alive and I have an appetite/ for longing.

Interviews

An interview with Kanya D’Almeida, the cowriter of Russell “Maroon” Shoatz’s memoir.

Poetry

映 with a skinny sun radical and 其 a pronoun/ pointing to who knows what.

Poetry

For a second, I imagine how it feels to inhabit a body people desire like gold.

Poetry

What if he just said the bird waited forever to alight.

Poetry

Kakolór pati kan álang na tulang nin tawó / an pigrunot na bagás asín ginibong puto. |
Especially when you notice the rice flour / that she uses is the color of human bone.

Poetry

I am the world inside/ of every persimmon

Poetry

where, fifty, years, earlier, lolo, learned, engineering