And there, …
Jenny Xie
I. …
The Sangre de Cristo Mountains mottled as if with oil stains. Configurations of cloud-shadows. …
Ice, entire cakes of it. …
Nowhere in those kerosene years …
I was profligate like a floodlight to the sun. …
Between Hanoi and Sapa there are clean slabs of rice fields …
The screens plant bulbs …
Sunday, awake with this headache. I pull apart the evening with a fork. White …