stillwildwithrain:

Suburban Chinatown
Saturday morning in Kepong means incense, the notion of a mealfor every ancestor, and the usual birds: pacific swallows, spotteddoves, common magpies, the yellow-vented bulbul.
It means there’ll be no Tai Chi class to loosen their armsthrough evening: their balcony will be dark and cluttered withclotheslines.
Kids will cycle earlier than usual, circumnavigating the block.

stillwildwithrain:

Suburban Chinatown

Saturday morning in Kepong means incense, the notion of a meal
for every ancestor, and the usual birds: pacific swallows, spotted
doves, common magpies, the yellow-vented bulbul.

It means there’ll be no Tai Chi class to loosen their arms
through evening: their balcony will be dark and cluttered with
clotheslines.

Kids will cycle earlier than usual, circumnavigating the block.

42 copies of our new chapbook are printed and hand-bound! They come in three colors and are full of new illustrations, poetry and prose.

You can get one at our release party TOMORROW for $4!

Where Rock Paper Scissors, 2278 Telegraph Ave, Oakland, CA 94612
When Thursday, July 18, 6-9pm
What Readings from our new book and Come Find Out’s new zine, snacks, music, schmoozing

See you there!

A bizarre piece of fiction, finally finished.
READ HERE

A bizarre piece of fiction, finally finished.

READ HERE

Hey! We’re working on new poems & prose for a summer chapbook. In the meantime, you can order our beautiful hand-bound 2012 and 2011 chapbooks for $5 each! All proceeds will go to the production of our next book.

Tags: chapbooks

English Essay

  • Jake Barnes' wound is purely metaphorical.
  • It's hidden, emotional, emasculating, and
  • representative of a generation
  • that lost cause fighting.
  • That's why it means something
  • when he only catches small fish.

Penumbra

Finally a word that’s sound for sound
the same in English and Spanish. 

It’s coming now, the clockwork fog
that draws curtains over the mountains.

Beneath thunder I’m half-reading Lorca
(translation on the adjacent page).

Clouds move across the window
like faces watched from a slow bus.

The shadow doesn’t lift. It’s a grey between
open sky and the perfect dark

and it keeps me looking out
from the blurred curve of this place.

Spanish

I become a child again,
hiding upstairs in a couch corner
after lunch with a group of Colombians.

I say good and yes in bat squeaks.
The food is too much. My tiny hands pick
with the hesitant edge of the fork.

Can’t form soft “r”s, I’m never ready
for clever quickness, face round and still,
with the eyes of a night mouse.

I pronounce I understand more than I can say. 
This has been true of me always: a little 
reticent, even in the language I know.

Words

stillwildwithrain:

As a kid, I struggled 
with the consonants
at the end of the alphabet.
I give myself credit, though,
for knowing every vowel
even when most sentences
strung between chime and mumble.

First Apartment No. 2

Went outside to bring in those plates
and paused. Fingers on the lattice,
heard the froth and snap, the fake laughs
of some party downstairs, thought about
how we live against a freeway on a grid of lights.

Then I looked up to stare at this
square of our apartment untethered
against the dark, a yellow painting
from a distance, and began to miss it.

Tags: A.R. poetry

Check out the PDF of New Work 2. We’ve got poetry, prose, excerpts from longer fiction pieces and illustrations. We drew names randomly then made line drawings for each other’s work.

This may be our best chapbook yet.

Enjoy.