Banana blossoms
Their bruise-color a warning.

By Chau Anh Nguyen
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Interviews

Episode 1 of The Source

Poetry

“Portrait of EEEEEEEEEE” and “On Disappointments in Music”

Poetry

I am learning to birth pearls from a dull knife.

Fiction

The faceless child took shape in the darkness.

Essays

How do we care for our children and the environment?

Essays

Tending to a garden in Taiwan.

Essays

On translating Li Qingzhao

Fiction

Men love anything that shines.

An open call for journalism on Asian immigrant and Muslim communities

Poetry

(siempre los míos son los ojos tuyos) | (always my eyes are your eyes)

Essays

Feeling invasive in Long Island

Fiction

“You remind me of that woman I killed,” says Kenny, in one of his inspired lies.

Poetry

On my way home, I ask the sky to come down and keep me company

Poetry

You are Rapunzel fresh out the tower.

Essays

The climate is changing. Should our cultural recipes change too?

Poetry

莫道不銷魂 | Don’t say I’m not overcome with feeling.

Poetry

What good’s grief / that fails to earn resurrection?

Poetry

I have never seen you with black hair. I will never see you again.

Poetry

you lean into me as if to complete the fragment in/ my mouth.

Fiction

She never forgave Maa for being the woman my father loved.

Interviews

Episode 1 of The Source

Essays

Feeling invasive in Long Island

Poetry

“Portrait of EEEEEEEEEE” and “On Disappointments in Music”

Fiction

“You remind me of that woman I killed,” says Kenny, in one of his inspired lies.

Poetry

I am learning to birth pearls from a dull knife.

Poetry

On my way home, I ask the sky to come down and keep me company

Fiction

The faceless child took shape in the darkness.

Poetry

You are Rapunzel fresh out the tower.

Essays

How do we care for our children and the environment?

Essays

The climate is changing. Should our cultural recipes change too?

Essays

Tending to a garden in Taiwan.

Poetry

莫道不銷魂 | Don’t say I’m not overcome with feeling.

Essays

On translating Li Qingzhao

Poetry

What good’s grief / that fails to earn resurrection?

Fiction

Men love anything that shines.

Poetry

I have never seen you with black hair. I will never see you again.

An open call for journalism on Asian immigrant and Muslim communities

Poetry

you lean into me as if to complete the fragment in/ my mouth.

Poetry

(siempre los míos son los ojos tuyos) | (always my eyes are your eyes)

Fiction

She never forgave Maa for being the woman my father loved.