Only thought the smell of jasmine tasted like smoke.

I have done it again, crossing / outside the frame into / some brave, new world

Translated from Hanja (Old Korean) to Hangul (modern Korean) and then English

I am only the height and width of a girl. 

There is a waxing // for every waning.

After Rebecca Lindenberg

Translated from the Persian

we dig / holes into the ground, fill them with dirt / from another shore, call it home.

An image is a seizure of likeness

Imagine that, an America with no hills.

“Silence” and “Contending with ‘You’ After You Are Gone”

“Anthill,” “Jericho,” and “Tofino”

I speak with the weight of / hours left on this side of the pacific

Locheequat, fruit of the non-doing.

I was struck by the world I tasted—woods, Baja California granite, the winter of the grapes’ growth.

Translated from the Persian

A notebook on alchemy, memory, and sensation

a ghazal crown

After immigration interviews on Angel Island

I exhale & I let go of a jagged myth, // a small blade.