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

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

What counts as a mother language?

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

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

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

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

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

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.

I am the world inside/ of every persimmon

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

Joy is impossible to fake, they say.

My arms ache/ in the cereal aisle.

I am trying to imagine my new life when I am returned to the place of my parents’ birth.

Juyon Lee’s work plays with light and distance.

그때 그 상황에 헌병들이 하는 말이 모두 쏼라쏼라 들렸다. | The English words of the police fell senselessly to the ground.

you choose to put yourself beneath its flag

Now it’s raining and I’m sixteen and unlicensed.

What do return narratives tell us about a changing world? As China has risen to economic power, a trend in Chinese American literature has emerged.

An open call for criticism pitches