Tag Archives: Michelle Chen

arrive at the boardwalk thinking of words. The hoarders have already descended, wading through the seaweed into the darkness. In the morning the crustaceans circle and burrow, the partygoers’ quiet mimes. Someone rolls up the foil of the ocean again … Continue reading →

The liquid is yellow, blue, a girl’s wedding braids. Tree-kneed, a fly touches a spider’s make. A spider makes a sticky milk. Koi rise flush with the surface, then descend to mill about the black forest dandruff. A bubble is … Continue reading →

The burning crockery pot shrivels white shreds of pomegranate pith like the insides of open eggs. Yellowed tombstone teeth of maize punch, one by one, out of their roots and freefall under your pinwheel eye. Dear, hunger wedges in your … Continue reading →