Articles in the Poetry Category
200 Results

Xiao Yue Shan: Two Poems

By Xiao Yue Shan (单小月) | May 21, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

the woman rows the boat and she is green, her skin / takes root. this water, thick and dark as the mouths / of doves, / seems home to even far away places.

Sengarone Peter Vetsmany: Two Poems

By Sengarone Peter Vetsmany | May 14, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Now, I’m lost in the woods thinking of Noy. / Is she still in Seattle? Does she has her pastry shop? / In Minnesota, I gather what is gone, capturing a spirit.

The Promise of This Union: On the 150th Anniversary of the Golden Spike

By Paisley Rekdal | May 13, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

On the 150th anniversary of the completion of the First Transcontinental Railroad, Paisley Rekdal revisits the legacy of the Chinese railroad workers who reshaped the American West.

To Be Close Again to Meena and to Learn More from Her Poetry, I Compose a Cento

By Kimiko Hahn | May 7, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I came into this world in an Allahabad hospital / In the absence of reliable ghosts I made aria / I watch your hands at the keyboard / Memory is all you have.

consumption (in contemporary)

By Andy Choi | April 30, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

i had a twin who was 95% water. a twin who latched its mouth onto my heart and drank me dry.

Non-Invasive

By Cameron Quan Louie | April 23, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Instinctively, one / wants to be the native plant in its ancestral loam, / one wants a resistance to the sun, to shun full rainfall / for a flash of morning dew, or at very least, grow / some throwaway limbs.

Kaemon accho? Shob thik?

By Jonaki Ray | April 22, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Grandfather would have bought the Ilish—not wincing at the 1200 rupees per kilogram

How to Make an Ariel

By Jai Hamid Bashir | April 16, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I practiced my Urdu in the bathroom with you / as I sat in the tub; only so long before an American / mermaid can stand without floating on into sea foam.

Interview After the End of the World

By Lily Zhou | April 8, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I could become / a better citizen, but then who would be left to / speak for me?

Life Lines: A Poem by Connie Leung

By Connie Leung | April 8, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

if only we could learn / to stop // looking back / for each other.

Residence of a Sleepless Dream

By Bartholomew Crawford | April 4, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I reside in purgatory awaiting judgment. A seven-level structure, seven stories of nothing.

Drop a Kite

By Fong Lee | April 3, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Sometimes you wonder if there really is a place called heaven nearby. You will ask yourself which would be better: Death? Or 38 years in prison?

Saturday Morning Cartoons: Baopu #15

By Jody Chan | April 2, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

three Novembers ago we found a comic that told us / if you want to say thank you, don’t say sorry. / I have held my breath ever since.

Letter to the Son I Never Met

By Dao Xiong | April 1, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Dao Xiong writes to Axxel Xiong from inside a Minnesota prison.

Inside: Two Poems by Louise Waakaa’igan

By Louise Waakaa'igan | March 28, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

each maple and golden locust / weighs heavy with coverings of Christian / white snow concealing / impurities of earthen made bark

Fast Food

By Kara Kai Wang | March 26, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

What do you like he tries again / and I think of landscape, the early fog / ridden hills of San Francisco when eucalyptus / unfurl like children waking to the light.

Fruits of the Future

By Ly Thuy Nguyen | March 21, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Not an assumption; not a name you learned to remember, not a fleshy shape or a face you already recognized

Safe sex and Exile | Tình dục an toàn và Lưu vong

By Vũ Thành Sơn and Kaitlin Rees | March 19, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Bạn sẽ gọi quê hương bằng một đại từ nào? Tôi sẽ gọi đó là một ám ảnh | What pronoun would you use to call your birthsoil? I would call it a haunting

Everyone is here but the one who matters

By Li Qingzhao and Jenn Marie Nunes | March 13, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

夜來沉醉卸妝遲 || With night you sink drunk slow to undo/ your hair

Heart’s Exile, Day Forty-Seven | 심장의 유배, 마흔이레

By Kim Hyesoon and Don Mee Choi | March 12, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Can I call my death “I”?

The First and Second I & Missing Person | Dua Aku & Orang Hilang

By Cyntha Hariadi and Norman Erikson Pasaribu | March 8, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

was it a gentle human hand, or black-furred / long-clawed

On a Desert Highway: Two Poems by Ed Bok Lee

By Ed Bok Lee | February 28, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The shaman wore long white sleeves rippling & / Minuscule in the bone-dry distance. / I jerked & righted the wheel / Plying invisible waves of hot sea

There is No Me Inside Me: Four Poems by Kim Yideum

By Kim Yideum | February 26, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I write myself into the fiction / whether you see me or not.

Table

By You Li | February 19, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

If you lie / on the table, you subject the table to a terrible guilt. / It is no longer a table people can eat on. If you stand / next to the table, the table senses its mortality.

A Spider

By Souvankham Thammavongsa | February 12, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Over and over / from some small / dark pit, / it spun out / a whole world / for itself

Out With Mom

By Rebecca Pinwei Tseng | February 5, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I am careful with my words unless they are not in English, / am I not? (不好意識打擾各位可是我不想再禮貌了。) / My mother is careful with her words only when they are in English.

Surur Teaches Me How to Say Ahha (احا)

By Hazem Fahmy | January 29, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Here, the mangled text that will / become a poem — loose language — / blueprint for a reckoning.

The Magician’s Daughter: Two Poems by Shuang Ang

By Shuang Ang | January 22, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

My father was always the magician, / not I. One swift pull and / the silk streamers would spill / from his mouth, flooding the floor.

The Diary of Afong Moy

By Sally Wen Mao | January 16, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Banknotes / dropped, jawbones dropped, and it was truly / unnerving, to watch the white people / stare at me, mouths / twitching in awe or pity, / or both.

Midas

By Kristin Chang | January 15, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

My father the frycook, his father / the same. Their hands so oiled / everything they touched / flamed. Like Midas if Midas / loved fire not gold.

Ghazal Asking My Father the Questions

By Hajjar Baban | January 8, 2019 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Did you take my mother’s hand or ghost / the altar in her bedroom first?

Autumn in Prison

By Connie Leung | December 20, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

but your leaves are changing in here / as all the fallen do

The Republic of Mercy: Two Poems by Sharon Wang

By Sharon Wang | December 18, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Always / propelling the thing forward, not leaving us to rest. / Below: the infinite world, // all its ligaments, all its creatures.

Security

By Leigh Sugar | December 11, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

what I don’t get is why / you choose to come here

In the Hardware Factory

By Zheng Xiaoqiong and Eleanor Goodman | December 7, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

as I bear loneliness in the shrieks of iron, it carved / my residence registration on a hole-punch

Remembering the Anonymous

By Xie Xiangnan and Bing Ma and Eleanor Goodman | December 6, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

This is a rectangular dream / which inevitably brings forth a rectangular waiting / a floating country can’t pillow a broken dream / and I’ve never dared say goodnight

A Window

By Bernard Capinpin | December 4, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The / day you died, the windows of our house were / open to let the breeze in. You said that it was / nothing.

Song Kyung-dong: Overcoming the Nation

By Song Kyung-dong | November 27, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Tonight, too, there are turning lines…/ I say I do not know, do not know.

shock-awareness

By Phan Bá Thọ | November 20, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

love you because i / hate your lovers loving your peripheral love

Two Poems by Sawako Nakayasu

By Sawako Nakayasu | November 16, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Taking advantage of opacity, Girl E goes for it and punches indiscriminately.

“L’Heure Vert”

By Monica Ferrell | November 13, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Near the bottom of your hollow mouth, / Your cut tongue gathers lizard scales / Like a sunken bucket in an algal well.

Playing with white dust from Mongolia, always unfinished

By Tse Hao Guang (謝皓光) | November 5, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

into such sen / sitivity of it / such sense / could not say

The Age of Plastic

By Craig Santos Perez | November 1, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Ultrasound waves / pulse between fluid, tissue, and bone一 / the embryo echoes.

Photograph Curling

By Aldrin Valdez | October 30, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

She’s here to see us off. / Her voice is the softest ligature, unthreading. / Why are you saying goodbye to everyone except for me who raised you?

Water

By Divya Victor | October 25, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

After a sperm whale sucks in a squid, it will vomit out its beak.

Apple: Two Poems by Ayesha Raees

By Ayesha Raees | October 23, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

There was a longing / in the carvings of the / knife my mother held / against the fruit. She / peels with quiet / permission.

Generation

By Ahmed Bouanani, translated by Emma Ramadan | October 12, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

May our dead no longer speak to us / Our language now kneaded into other woes / with rancid stars a meager pittance / and false kingdoms rich in violent blows

Object Permanence: Two Poems by Constance Chan

By Constance Chan | October 9, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I always thought I’d find you / throned in the moon-drenched water my wonder / woman your palms curled upward like lotus skins

Chinatown Diptych: Two Poems by Jenny Xie

By Jenny Xie | October 2, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Who’s keeping count of what’s given against what’s stolen? / There’s nothing I can’t trace back to my coarse immigrant blood.

How I Wait for You to Return from Your Naturalization Ceremony

By Maddie Kim | September 25, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Tonight, when you return, you / will be an American and I will still be a girl who needs / a translator to read in my mother’s language, my mouth full / of so few shapes. I fall into the habits of my mother, it’s true.

Immigrant’s Lament

By Phuong T. Vuong | September 18, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

This is my small sphere. / I’ll make good, stay folded in myself. I promise / to memorize the bramble and texture of garden walls.

A Cruelty Special to Our Species

By Emily Jungmin Yoon | September 18, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

She is girl. She is gravel. She is grabbed. She is grabbed like handfuls of gravel.

Camp: A Special Issue of The Margins

By AAWW | September 11, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop
Tags:

A collection of essays, poems, and stories by Asian American writers that trouble, expand, and redefine the space of the camp

Cherrystone, For Us

By Andrea Juele | September 11, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Fingers caked with wet / rice break backs and bellies, / pluck gills, / scrape eggs, tear limbs / Tita takes our legs– / cracks them / under a glass jar for us. / We suck shells ’til twilight.

When the Moon is Your Mother’s Lost Comb: Two Poems by Asa Drake

By Asa Drake | September 4, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Woman who puts up her hair comb holds / up the sky. There is the legend and probably a lie.

To Whom I Could Give This Pain: Three Poems by Lee Seong-Bok

By Lee Seong-Bok | August 28, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

From a crevice in a severed rock / birds with long beaks were tearing out earthworms. / My pain was without a wound / and in the bodies of the frayed, torn-out worms / there was no pain.

Still, Somehow: Two Poems by Hieu Minh Nguyen

By Hieu Minh Nguyen | August 21, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

because I love you, I will gut this distance / with nostalgia, because grief can taste of sugar if you run / your tongue along the right edge

Rainbow

By Eileen Chong | August 7, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Not all rainbow: here, tender orange, / there, rusted brown, the underside / gelatinous and white. Then the bones.

Disorder: Two Poems by Adeeba Talukder

By Adeeba Talukder | July 31, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

There is uncertainty in your future, a woman on the street told me. I can see it. You will be very unhappy, very soon.

Minoru

By Michael Prior | July 24, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The stallion: one win short / of the triple crown. My intonation: / one stress too many for an apology— / all the times I got it wrong. Minoru, / Minoru—both are gone.

narrowed lust

By Inam Kang | July 17, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

i say i’ll be / dressless, skinless, curated / and pickled. i say i’ll give it / all up for a chance to be warm.

You Will Always Be Someone From Somewhere Else

By Dao Strom | July 10, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Mythologies have their way of explaining the basic human condition: that there will always be some where or thing you wish to get to or back to.

Swallow

By Geramee Hensley | June 26, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Ask if he knows, what the first champagne mango of the summer / tastes like, its golden juices flowing over some farmer’s / cigar paper skin.

Apo

By Cornell Pineda | June 19, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

A policeman found the boy minutes later. A shaman, / a monk, a priest, and a poet are still pouring over / his soul.

Wild Geese Sorrow: The Chinese Wall Inscriptions at Angel Island

By Jeffrey Thomas Leong and David Wojahn | June 12, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Against the hills, a tall building with plank-walled rooms. / I, wishing for my wife and son like clouds far away, / My night is even longer under the bright moon.

Marianna’s Beauty Salon: Two Poems by Bushra Rehman

By Bushra Rehman | June 5, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The moon appears / the small clip of a nail a paring knife / a chalk mark / left to linger in the sky

My Mother Tells Me About Lolo

By Marianne Chan | May 29, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

We prayed for resurrections, / but the dead remain as memories that / seemed to shrink in the mind, / like an airplane appearing smaller / the further it gets from the ground.

A Beautiful Child

By Omar Sakr | May 22, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I should say kholo, my mother’s brother. / I should say umja, my father’s brother / so you know which branch of the tree to cut. Or / cherish.

Litany for the Long Moment

By Mary-Kim Arnold | May 15, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

If I can learn its grammar and alphabet / hold its vocabulary in my mouth / then perhaps I can know something of history—my history.

Face | Off

By Su Hwang | May 8, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Pipedream: / I wondered what it would be like to strip away / slit eyes—sick of assimilation; the debilitating / task of tireless reinvention.

A Woman May Not Be a Safe Place: Two Poems by Diana Khoi Nguyen

By Diana Khoi Nguyen | April 30, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

When I was born, my parents put me on a rug on the ground and stood / staring at me until the light outside dimmed and then there in the / darkening we three were quiet for a while

Elegy Ending in the Sound of a Sewing Machine: Two Poems by Cindy Tran

By Cindy Tran | April 24, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I could live like this, I thought, lie here / and have my own kind of drifting blue.

Ten Enduring Statements from Lost or Forgotten Films

By John Yau | April 17, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

We wonder if this is what heaven is like—an old movie theater with thick velvet curtains that part, as the lights dim and the naked cherubs peering down from the blue and gold ceiling vanish, like comets.

Driving Lessons

By Michelle Tong | April 10, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I want to make / change and am ready / for new challenge. / I can stay between white white lines.

Ars Poetica in a Dream Language

By Anni Liu | April 3, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I dream my mother / unravels / hair out of my mouth / in English / she asks me / to speak Chinese / coils the hair / into a dark gloss / whorled / in her palm

recollect

By Lawrence Ypil | March 27, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

How do I tell you that I have done this before? / How to build a diorama of what I am not.

Moments

By Ayesha Raees | March 20, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The floor broke apart / the tasbeeh into ninety / nine beady reflections / and my mother is still / able to fake a surprise / when she can’t locate / them all.

in the end we are humanlike (Blade Runner 2049)

By Nina Powles | March 9, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I am the last of them—a woman with her own dreams, not salvaged from the cloud-based data lake that I created.

Three Tongue Twisters: Poems by Duy Doan

By Duy Doan | March 6, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

One lover was bold and touched / me once behind a door, but it was her cousin / Vandie, the one who never looked at me, that I loved. // One lover was kind, so kind, in kissing / me at all.

40 Years: Poems by Rami Karim

By Rami Karim | February 27, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Older immigrants talk as if Reagan invited them to dinner. / The dream never showed, but we can paint chain link white.

All About the Birds

By Li-Young Lee | February 20, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

They might spend most of their days in the sky, / but every evening they remember / to come back to earth.

Dreams and Divination

By Xiao Yue Shan | February 13, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I lay my head down on a pillow pilled / with characters, yellow tracks and traces / of the name I was given.

After Félix Resurrección Hidalgo’s Las Virgenes Cristianas Expuestas al Populacho

By Rodrigo Dela Peña, Jr. | February 6, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The usual / drama of chiaroscuro, / how it begins / in medias res for the sake / of the viewer.

Hiding Skin

By Hazem Fahmy | January 30, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Studio Era music makes me want to dress fancy and pretty; leave the house in gorgeous armor, but I know too well the earth’s hunger and I will not satisfy it. Today I leave my house and I make sure no one can call me faggot.

Filipino time

By Janelle Marie Salanga | January 23, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

but really every word sounds like the sun/ sweltering in the middle of Santacruzan

I Wore My Blackest Hair: Two Poems by Carlina Duan

By Carlina Duan | January 9, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I was her American / daughter, my tongue / my hardest muscle / forced to swallow / a muddy alphabet.

Body, Reconfigurations, glass

By Teng Qian Xi | January 2, 2018 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The world held us / In glass circles

which orientation with sea

By Nhã Thuyên | December 19, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

i have seen the line at the bottom of sky crack glimmers of clear light

A History-to-Come of Helmbrellas: Their Features and Fates

By Norman Erikson Pasaribu | December 13, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Think about it: if rain accumulating above someone / resumes descent, where does it fall?

This is Not a Poem About My Mother

By Sreshtha Sen | December 12, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I tell C no one loves me like a mother would. / C says no one loves a fragile queer. I choke / on the thread as it slices words out:/ Say Ma say Mother America say Mother India say love me like a mother won’t.

Stories: To My Grandfather

By Zhu Zhu | November 28, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘These were / all the gold coins that he laid by in a life of poverty, / saved up in the vault of his mind’

Living Inside That Sound: Two Poems by Natalie Wee

By Natalie Wee | November 28, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I remember / 亲爱的 / back then / how you robed / yourself in tall grass / & earthed your flesh / how your waiting / shrunk soldiers’ bayonets

Three Poems from The Year of Blue Water by Yanyi

By Yanyi | November 21, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘What I / am—I’ve gone further than gambling, drug addiction, death— / I’ve killed the image of her daughter.’

The Debt of Fish and Ant

By The Transpacific Literary Project | November 14, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

When the tide rises, it is easy for the fish to prey on the ant, but when it ebbs, the fish becomes the ant’s prey.

All Over the Place

By Hazem Fahmy | November 7, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘A week before I graduate, I round up all my femme clothes / and stuff them in the Savers plastic bag / I’d gotten them in.’

So blonde

By Leah Silvieus | October 31, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Mine: thick & black, so coarse / when trimmed, the ends splintered / bare feet.’

The Experiment of the Tropics

By Lawrence Lacambra Ypil | October 31, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

That American thing · The good old good

Hybrid Cookbook: Two Poems

By The Transpacific Literary Project | October 17, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Funny how it ends up that you’re the leftovers.

Process Questions: Two Poems by Karthik Purushothaman

By Karthik Purushothaman | October 10, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Which poem can defeat / the fear of dying / a meaningless death / and how to write that poem / staring into the barrel?’

In The Church

By Rodrigo Dela Peña, Jr.  | October 3, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Pray tell me, how much
are we paying for the sermon?

JFK Airport

By Celina Su | September 26, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘As if I could get un-situated / this airport a bubble hovering / in a void between celestial bodies / in but not of / the country I stand in.’

Bona Fide Relationships

By AAWW | September 26, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Through stories, essays, and poems, writers imagine new narratives that speak to Trump’s Muslim ban

Where Is

By Lawdenmarc Decamora | September 19, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

showbiz etceteras · commercial spaces · newspapered ideas

accent

By ko ko thett | September 5, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

People judge me by my skin. My skin’s purpose in life is to prove them wrong.

Emptied: Two Poems by Hieu Minh Nguyen

By Hieu Minh Nguyen | August 22, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

There are countless ways / to justify company. Hunger, overdue balance, whatever. / Cartoon savage licking the throne clean. / & isn’t that what you always wanted? / To be filled & emptied?

Document

By Bao Phi | August 15, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

In all the books I love, the hero doesn’t strike first. But then again, none of the heroes look like me.

ASEAN at 50: Poems from Across Southeast Asia

By The Transpacific Literary Project | August 7, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Half a century on, what does it mean to be part of ASEAN?

Azalea Azalea

By Aria Aber | August 1, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

For eleven / years I lied about where I’m from, / ashamed by the music of endings, // that deep hollow bell. How much of my yearly / tax is spent to bomb the dirt / that birthed me?, is a question // I never wanted to consider.

No Radio

By Sokunthary Svay | July 11, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Children are playing soldier. / Fetuses ripped from wombs dangle / in nearby trees. Yet he opened his mouth / and a flood of love melodies poured out.’

it will be too late when i learn the meaning of americanah

By Taeyin ChoGlueck | June 27, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

pink spam injected into the bloodstream / won’t make one minnesotan, / the difference of an exporter and importer, / colonizer and the colonized with a nine digit ssn

AAWW TV: Ode to DJ Khaled

By AAWW | June 15, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop
Tags:

Marwa Helal reads two poems at the Workshop, including her paen to the Palestinian American rapper DJ Khaled.

On Lovers and Closeness: Two Poems by Joseph Han

By Joseph Han | June 13, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Every spring, a deer must shed antlers used for fighting and each bone branch grows back with the thought of my partner’s return this season, and yet.

Ghosts in the War Machine: Jane Wong’s Overpour

By Sally Wen Mao | June 6, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The poet talks about her debut collection, sharing silenced histories in her writing, and being a “wild girl poet.”

where are we headed

By Jess Rizkallah | May 30, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

but this is boring. let’s talk / about something else. people are only lines / written with water it’s not that serious. i just want to drink / my coffee. i just want to think about roses i misheard / the words as a laugh, beautiful like a song of roses

宇多田 ヒカル and the Huntsman: Poems by Kazumi Chin

By Kazumi Chin | May 23, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘This drought of silence / that does not feed me. I mean, I refuse / to hold his vanity. And demand to know / myself better. Cull his soul but only / for memory, carve a history / for myself in which my reflection / alone can be seen.’

Dear Dogwood Bloomed

By Michelle Lin | May 9, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

I meant / to just take a photo of you. Forgive // my trespasses, my negatives, / but remember them. My ghosts // were asked to lay in their bed, / and so said: I am not like them // I am not. This is the blood I’ll leave / behind on bark to bark.

Memory of Figment a Merely: Four Poems by Zaina Alsous

By Zaina Alsous | May 2, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

At this point I will disobey and say / you are free to go if you choose. Choice is a complicated part of describing / Palestinian heroes or terrorists.

In a Roman Story

By Mia Kang | April 25, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Oh Mars, you mistook me / for someone / I briefly was. / Girl alight / with impending loss, / vessel for bearing / out an arch / -itectural illusion. A wall / isn’t truly built / to exclude, but to instate / something worth defending.

Salome Dances the Seven Veils, Asks for the Head of a Baptist in Return

By Nina Li Coomes | April 18, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘No words of a Savior are news to a Woman. / No words of a resurrection sound gospel[-enough] / when you are both the Crucifixion and the Crowd.’

Decomposition Study

By Tom Phan | April 11, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Skin molted like a lazy adder/while sinew pooled like glue.//Bone fractured next/like desert rose glass/then melted too.’

The Dirt Will Wash Us Clean: Poems by Hari Alluri

By Hari Alluri | April 4, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘We do not want to hover like a line of fog, a river’s shadow, but slower: shadows in conversation, gentle only when we don’t bother expecting to be heard.’

Immigration in A

By Kristin Chang | March 23, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘When I held him in my palm, I learned to love what made me. From time to time, I think about my father, his country, clean hands. I like to think of his hands as clean. I like to think I owe nothing to his body.’

I Wake Up in New York to an Explosion in Lahore and Carry On With My Day As If Nothing Happened

By Momina Mela | March 14, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘A man kisses a pigeon and another kisses a dog and / both times I look away to gather the spikes of trees into a / dripping faucet.’

When You Turn Into Silence: Three Poems By E.J. Koh

By E. J. Koh | February 28, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

The sun sieves through the canopy— / rivers are relenting. My soul seats itself // for the first time. Where it is quiet, it becomes cold. / There is nothing I must do but die— // what joy to let go of all things—what ease to give up.

Magic / Dawn: Two Poems by Sahar Romani

By Sahar Romani | February 21, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘First memory of English: my father orders spaghetti from a waitress. / Foreign flowers blossom in his mouth and I’m spellbound in Urdu. // On Friday afternoons, cars spill across a bleached suburb. / Not far from the mosque, look! Crooked lines of devout Urdu.’

Uncertified

By Mehrnoosh Torbatnejad | February 14, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘did I ever tell the teacher / we invented a new language that a pair of six year olds spoke fluent / appeasement she pointed to the globe told me to tell him / this is the world and that is America’

We Set Our Tables

By Krystal A. Sital | February 7, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Cracking the spine, we eat // With fingers mixing and mashing, / ladling for one another, / Karaili, pommecythe, cur-he, / spooning and sliding into our mouths, / Wiping the leaf green.’

Seeing a Lover: Four Poems by Hasan Sijzi of Delhi

By Hasan Sijzi of Delhi | January 31, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘My wishes are fulfilled with less searching. / My lover rises with a little waiting. / His fresh moustache conquers the cosmos. / Colored by evening, his mole deceives fate.’

“Nautical Shrouds”

By Vi Khi Nao | January 24, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘I roam. Sometimes in solitude; sometimes in a crowd. But unlike a dog, I do not die a little each day, subdued to the loyalty of my master. I die all at once if it must be.’

“mothers and fathers”

By Irene Hsu | January 17, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘how to write a thank you letter / how to write a sorry letter. how to write / a letter saying please i’d love / my money back, or haven’t i given / you enough? how to write i love / you i love / you and isn’t that / enough?’

When Nature Inhabits a Body: Two Poems by Shireen Madon

By Shireen Madon | January 10, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘The pain entered / me the way the moon / disarms the daya slick blade. / I offered myself as water, / studied its errancy. / What a good citizen, / I thought.’

The Pentagram Discovery by W. Todd Kaneko

By W. Todd Kaneko | January 3, 2017 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘If you spark a flame and turn / it upside down, / you will find it is still / a flame.’

Sunday Elegy by Katy Kim

By Katy Kim | December 13, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

There are no refractions today / by the pepper flakes— in the glass. // The snails slept by the snap pea hooks / and cradles— I salted them. // Sometimes I drank / from a vapored gas— / I made ellipses with my glass.

[conflict/occupation] by George Abraham

By George Abraham | November 29, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘i contour my face with sand & it is war paint on the wrong body. i puncture my nostril with steel & that is a war crime on the wrong body.’

American Tourist by Jessica Yuan

By Jessica Yuan | November 22, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘My father likes silence and the past. // He votes for losing candidates (he is so unwilling to love charismatic men.) / He believes in the things we are given, like decency.’

The Games: Two Poems by Janice Sapigao

By Janice Lobo Sapigao | November 15, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘these games draw lines / between crowds / i am one of many / who wonder, / how come the silicon valley / squats on san josé?’

No Comfort in Shade: Three Poems by Chris Santiago

By Chris Santiago | November 8, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

To constellate; archipelago. // Portmanteau & neologize. // To fix a golden / foil across the mouth— // a burial mask / to keep the evil out. // To raise walled cities / stone & green with rain.

AMPLIFY(HER): Raising the Counter-Narrative

By AMPLIFY(HER) | November 4, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

From comfort food to college applications, this zine showcases the stories of undocumented women from the Asian Diaspora

All Your Original Meanings: Two Poems by Soleil David

By Soleil David | November 1, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Here is language, say / it is one you know. Hyphenate / when you can. Steal inquiries, / steel for confusion. Be content / in the discontent of the hyphenation.’

Family Garden: Two Poems by Nghiem Tran

By Nghiem Tran | October 25, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘A body on all fours, you / prefer crawling over standing, / your face permanently tilted / down, your eyes only seeing / the ground. How beautiful / the view is.’

Orphan: The Plural Form by Sun Yung Shin

By Sun Yung Shin | October 18, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘A family as triangle. Drifting lines. This [mother- father-child] triangle will never be reassembled.’

Sonneting: Two Poems by Sreshtha Sen

By Sreshtha Sen | October 4, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Night, she tries to define herself but forgets / her skin is already inked into a script.’

Hirato Renkichi and Hagiwara Kyojiro: 1920s Japanese Avant-Garde Poets

By Hirato Renkichi and Hagiwara Kyojiro | September 27, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Dark, dark, too dark a dark everywhere / Lovers drooping their necks / Dark as though picking up that darkness / And, again, inside that darkness / There are wolves and dogs on the prowl’

Self-Portrait as GPS

By Steven Chung | September 20, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

How the steering wheel / points nowhere except towards itself. / And such is the spinning of the mind: / everywhere. When we drove into new / cities it was only a different shape of haze.

Still Dirty: Two Poems by David Lau

By David Lau | September 13, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘No motions./A tonic in page display tufts,/call me switch-foot, a check away from homeless./You get there. Intentional.’

The Last Time I Saw Her: Poems by Mari L’Esperance

By Mari L'Esperance | September 6, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Grief is deep green and carries a sharp scent./ Memory and rain are like nothing that keeps./ She disappeared in the season of roubai.’

When the Chant Comes: Two Poems by Kay Ulanday Barrett

By Kay Ulanday Barrett | August 16, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘After midnight you assemble your limbs back to / their rightful place as you rid the pressure formed / by all day heat and no privacy.’

None of the Furniture Fits: Two Poems by Sunu Chandy

By Sunu P. Chandy | August 9, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘I lifted / an arm, to signify the range / of human voice. Somewhere in the week, / a detour from grief.’

Letters to Mao: Two Poems by Jennifer S. Cheng

By Jennifer S. Cheng | August 2, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘How to measure my body home, which is to say, how many names can you give to an immigrant’s geography? Delta Court, Tai Tam, Outer Sunset; finally, a dream to reach the edge of the sea.’

Pei Pei Wept by Lo Mei Wa

By Lo Mei Wa | July 26, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘That day, I came of age / And became a child.’

Poetry From the Schoolyard: A-Z American Born Chinese

By Sophia Huynh | July 19, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘I remember when I first learned my ABCs. A is for apple, B is for bird, and C is for cat, but further experience taught me, that ABC means American Born Chinese.’

The Day: Poetry by Barbara Jane Reyes

By Barbara Jane Reyes | July 12, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Sometimes you are damaged. You think poetry will repair you. You think poetry should repair you. You shake your fist at it when it doesn’t. You walk hand-in-hand with your damage, into the world. You do not speak. You are surprised when people register you are there.’

Letting the Dogs Out: Two Poems by Carlina Duan

By Carlina Duan | July 5, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘there was / my mother packaging miàn tiáo by the sink. / breath in the morning. breath in the afternoon. / the way history comes back to haunt me with / a plump fist. the way my mouth, a cave, opened / and closed.’

A Tongue I Can Use: Two Poems by Hayun Cho

By Hayun Cho | June 28, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘You hold the knife, you drink the sorrows. / You burn your hands making tea. / When something hurts, / You no longer feel rage. / You wipe up the mess. / Outside, dusk is the color of Violet and ash.’

Nostalgia Is Your Sibling: Two Poems by Michelle Peñaloza

By Michelle Peñaloza | June 21, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘I wanted to be the last of my people, / a girl without mother, father, sister, brother— / a girl belonging to no one, / my only belongings a cormorant skirt / and a cage of tiny birds.’

Pitch and Frequency by Sun Yung Shin

By Sun Yung Shin | June 14, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

My shadow turned to rust / …dust at the first strong wind / … the lungs of others / …hard to breathe / …to follow me / No one to lick out your lungs? / – sweep out the curious orange flakes?

Ventricles Embrace: Three Poems by Jen Hyde

By Jen Hyde | June 7, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘I am looking at pictures on a very large / chair in a room with white / walls my mother wipes daily. / Her shoulder is a shelter on which I arrange / rock formations to resemble skin burdens.’

By the River: Two Poems by Bing Li

By Bing Li | May 31, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop
Tags: , ,

‘I told, my dear, I was living living living in the river. / I told, her then, I was dying dying dying not to shiver.’

Lavender Town: Three Poems by Sally Wen Mao

By Sally Wen Mao | May 17, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘When you climb the stairway, / don’t shield your eyes / from the pixels, 30 hertz heat— / don’t shield your awe / from the ghosts of pretty prey’

The Next Bruce Lee and Other Poems by Kien Lam

By Kien Lam | May 10, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘I’ve heard the way some people breathe / at night and it made me want / to close their mouths. I think / inside of all of us lies / an animal trying its best to escape.’

Lives You Never Had: Two Poems by Tyler Tsay

By Tyler Tsay | May 3, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop
Tags: , ,

‘the games you played as a child: / cracks breaking bones with every step. alive because / that’s your job.’

dear Bambi: Three Poems by Kristin Chang

By Kristin Chang | April 26, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘So be / domestic, Bambi / no one kills a pet / So sell your flesh / for fabric, Bambi. Leash / your skin to a lawn / meat yourself.’

A House Made of Flames: Two Poems by Albert Abonado

By Albert Abonado | April 19, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

When we point towards the horizon and say this is the color / of our grandfather, we do not know for how long // the night will carry your shade or what winds / brought you here.

The Clouds Followed Us: Two Poems by Hala Alyan

By Hala Alyan | April 12, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘We begged our bodies for / alchemy, death into new lungs, we fed bread / to the jinn’

Only the Clotheslines Knew: Poems by Zeina Hashem Beck

By Zeina Hashem Beck | April 12, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘You’ve memorized its bends like a prayer, / its long silver-gray hair, / its cigarettes, its favorite / songs and curse words, / the holes in its shirts.’

We’re in the Room, Calvin Trillin

By AAWW | April 11, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

Writers respond to Trillin’s doggerel “Have They Run Out of Provinces Yet?”

The End of History

By Kristine Sloan | April 5, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘The right to hxstory is the right to know. / I need to know how my mind is theft. / My body is property because my mind is theft. / I say “woman” and I can still move my mouth.’

Hour of the Ox: Poems by Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello

By Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello | March 29, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

We graze our fingers through damselfish schools, // but our appetites are as insatiate as the sea is for land. / We gnaw the shore, legs wound in seaweed, / skin flayed by the tongues of clams, pulling, pushing.

Chinese Dreams: Two Poems by Timothy Yu

By Timothy Yu | March 22, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘At Downtown Crossing // he trail the shoppers, buying nothing, & rub / his rented nose. He know: myself am hell. / His feet unmoved in the snow.’

Each seed a set of rules growing apart: A Poem by Kenji Liu

By Kenji C. Liu | March 15, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘How many times in the dark? A brick for every freedom to hold its dream in. Will the Sun make his own grim entrance?’

Edge of a Time Zone: Two Poems by Ae Hee Lee

By Ae Hee Lee | March 8, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

You said you were an ant, eyes frozen / on an indigo wave looming over the world. / (You reset every time / you move forward.)

March First Movement: Korean Translations

By Kim Kirim, Im Hwa, and Kim So-wol | March 1, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘All the bitter things, one by one, in a rush, / She wants to swallow. Clothed in blueblack scales in a forest of iodine-colored seaweeds, / She wants to be chased by a shark.’

To an Unknown Passenger

By Phinder Dulai | February 23, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘my hulled hands crash against the tide / to the unloved I will offer / a part of me / in hope my wards will be made complete / for another life’

The Fates: Two Poems by Eddie Kim

By Eddie Kim | February 16, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘There’s a piece of me / that has never been / to this country and another that never left. // I stare at strangers as if they might be friends. // It took three weeks of traveling / before anywhere looked like home.’

Death is a Festival

By Anis Shivani | February 9, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘He knew the genealogies and coats of arms of / all his neighbors, with pride at its right hand and / cruelty at its left’

Bite Hard: Three Poems by Justin Chin (1969-2015)

By Justin Chin | February 2, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘when I am dark/ when I am no more light/ when I am no / more an abomination/ when I am no more shame/ when I am face / again/ when the collective being of me worships god, family, / education and the collective administrative silver spoon, / then I will be back in the fold.’

What I Saw Through The Telescope

By Jess X. Chen | January 26, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘We are given a face, / which means we are given / a vessel of blood to call body, / & lungs–that know the alchemy / of altering wind into breath–the way / plants are always transforming / someone’s last words / into oxygen.’

Now Alive, Now Burning: Three Poems by Yuki Tanaka

By Yuki Tanaka | January 19, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘We melted in amnesia, bubbled up / from the ocean, rinsed clean / of appetite, all healed, / all negated, a sequence of two spines / imitating an arrow. A jaguar loved us. / He licked where our hips had been, / and we cucooked in reply.’

Letters for __________you.

By Esther Lee | January 12, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘You brace yourself against the oncoming. But today the sea glistens like the fish you used to scale.’

Line Break Courage and Other Poems by Zhou Sivan

By Zhou Sivan | January 5, 2016 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘we need to reinvent the image of tragedy for the nation everyday / or even in the everyday / get incensed or pretend to be so or else there is no exit and no future’

Chopped: Four Sections

By Wo Chan | December 29, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘All your potatoes on the ground—you were never meant for this. The camerawoman tiptoes around spilled tubers as she zooms in on your front teeth, tearing open a parcel of dried shrimp. ‘

No Need for the Moon to Shine in It

By Jane Wong | December 15, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Murder is to mitosis is to mercy. / We are mostly legs too: part tendon, part pardon, kicking / or curling.’

Solar Maximum: Poems by Sueyeun Juliette Lee

By Sueyeun Juliette Lee | December 8, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Being alive has again made something new, something that may not be true of justice but is a basic commonplace in evolutionary theory. To forebear is one attitude, rising in an infinite return another.’

Returning: Two Poems by Wendy Chin-Tanner

By Wendy Chin-Tanner | December 1, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘If not agates, then barnacles, if not / sweet-smelling seaweed, then shattered shells./ The traveler need not journey on. // If not mussels, then sea glass, if not // smooth surfaces, then rocks pocked by anemones. / The traveler’s journey is one of return.’

Until the Red Runs Out: Two Poems by Muriel Leung

By Muriel Leung | November 24, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Match lit by a shadow’s curiosity. / Though I was not there for it, I still tasted their meat // and their marrow held a sweetness.’

Lycoris Radiata

By Kou Sugita | November 17, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Do you hear / the rainfall beating / on cowhide skin / father? It is the life / of autumn, / supernova / booming’

Great Object of the Ocean: Poems by B.B.P. Hosmillo

By B.B.P. Hosmillo | November 10, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Your mouth a little wound with a little reason to be / involved is why alienation is a body part, which moves / you to harshly ask if death really wanted what it wanted, / if its sole duty is to be observed all the time.’

miki endo as flint marko (a.k.a. sandman)

By Lee Ann Roripaugh | November 3, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘but what if it was something once / vulnerable, downy, and warm? // something severed or stillborn? // something with pulse and blood / and breath bitten right out of it?’

And If There Was No Country by J. Mae Barizo

By J. Mae Barizo | October 27, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘And they were a solemn people: naming / the world, mapping it out, arguing about what it meant. Clandestine as / husbands’

Pray Away from Our Adolescence: Poems by J.H. Yun

By J.H. Yun | October 20, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘Pastor says / abstain, says sins of the flesh, says hell. But when we see the boys / with their strong corded necks that make us crazy, we want and we do not.’

I’m Nature Boy: Two Poems by Albert Saijo

By Albert Saijo | October 13, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

“ALL WILL COME BACK FROM ROOTS – NOTHING KILLS BLACKBERRY – BUT WHERE ARE ALL THE SPARROWS”

Over the Fields: Two Poems by Angela Peñaredondo

By Angela Peñaredondo | October 6, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘They love long hours of blackout. / They love this snuffed out match / of a little city. To the dust that separates // stained lace. To the poor / thrum of humidity.’

Beaching: Two Poems by Jenna Le

By Jenna Le | September 29, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘The first boy that I dated weighted down his coif / with so much hair gel that the crest atop his pate / was hard as horses’ teeth’

Immigrant Cartography by Cathy Guo

By Cathy Guo | September 22, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘No others no-place/what to do but hoard the remaining solaces’

No Meat, No Maple: Two Poems by Rosanna Oh

By Rosanna Oh | September 15, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘It was the mind repeating itself out of hope— / a mind that inhabits the same metaphor over and over’

Theft of Color by Margaret Rhee

By Margaret Rhee | September 8, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘When I ask, the histologist responds, / Cells have no color. / We use ink to color the slides.’

Derma and Ichor: Poems by Paul Tran

By Paul Tran | September 1, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘I relinquish / the greatest thing I have / for my greatest wish. / I turn into sea foam. / I learn nothing / ceases to exist’

The Dirt in My Knees: Two Poems by Wendy Xu

By Wendy Xu | August 25, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

‘The world has a sleek, hot belly / A cue of white space, an inch or several yawning before the drop, towards volta’

Rajiv Mohabir: Two Poems

By Rajiv Mohabir | August 18, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

“in the jungle they hide until / the seekers, bearing lime leaves jail / them in the silver night.”

The Bridge at No Gun Ri

By Molly Gaudry | August 11, 2015 | Asian American Writers' Workshop

“I didn’t care whether they understood me, then I said, ‘Hello, hello,’ again, soldiers climbed out of their foxholes and looked at me, they couldn’t understand, but they knew where I came from, they just looked at me”

1 2

We would like to collect information during your visit to help us better understand site use. This data is anonymized, and will not be used for marketing purposes. Read More on our Privacy Policy page. You can withdraw permission at any time or update your privacy settings here. Please choose below to continue.

Show Buttons
Hide Buttons