Gecko In the Night

It wasn’t until I got back to New York that I found out many Chinese had moved to that area in the 1940’s to flee the repression of the Kuomintang.

All the Pretty Sights

She’d left him before she left him. For eight weeks we ripped, ate ceviche pickled and raw, drank wine, vodka in bars or stairs in front of brownstones.


We lack a medium to voice Our daily pandemonium. Granted we are mindless Insects on a Sisyphean errand Of ceaseless scuttling

Bunkulung Dreams

With the blend of millet wine Sipping; resting Among the blooming and towering trees Snuggled under the blanket of unkempt foliage Leaning against the arms of Murmah Khola and Balason