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Winter 1995/96
If that were not my father standing alone between two huge graying rocks this could all be nothing or a dream. ... If this were not the end of a year at war, I could tum from the page and go about my morning calmly and you ... Suddenly you take my hand and we peer into the haze of our century hoping to find an answer somewhere ...
Winter 1995/96
you thief, oh thief II. The Pocket My old self vanished when you went taking assurance, too, departed, ... without argument, without a note or forwarding address; what could I do but acquiesce? Think of my shock ... when only yesterday I heard a "click" in the door's lock and there my old ...
Winter 1995/96
Page 111 from Issue 95 TRIQUARTERLY up here." I tapped my finger to my temple. ... "It's not Nazi," my father said. "Is fact! What you have here," he pointed ... help me," I said. "Gina!" my mother implored. "Mr. Kim-" ...
Spring/Summer 1999
my features to flakes, then dust, a finger-smear across her chin as she stops to take her tea. When ... the surface­ as if my body were seen through inches of ice on a January pond, a rising toward oxygen that could ... take many months. My entire semblance could be crushed into her pocket, the lovely one beside her hip. ...
Fall 2003
to sink to the middle of the earth, I want to float out to the middle of the ocean. The back of my head ... is burning, throbbing, like his fingers are still there in my hair, holding me down. It's like fire ... spreading out and I reach up to try and stop it but I don't even want to touch my hair anymore, ...
and clear the field but not for me, it's not for my sake, it's just in order to make you ... I don't take my turn; yours is that unexpected final move, a revelation of power and grace: whatever ... credit is due will be yours. Because I don't want to be the maker of my fortune, ...
my parents died of mountain fever, after my brothers and my guardians were murdered, after Peter ...
Page 115 from Issue 131 text, my race, class, gender, and sexual orientation confounded my sub­ ... ject position with relation to those around me, such that my conscious­ ness about my identity ... Epistemology: A Theory in the Flesh In their path breaking anthology, This Bridge Called My Back, Chicana ...
Page 425 from Issue 107-108 Subtly indented nostrils, coral lips, The weightless gravity of my ... porcelain face, The contemplative pearl of my form, my air of trust- XII The limousine that dropped me ...
with my relatives in Brooklyn, and take my portfolio of drawings all around to the cartoon edi­ tors ... series by the time I was 22, so basically the thrill was gone in terms of seeing my name in print. ... It's fine but you have to ask yourself, What am I publishing? What is it that my name is attached to? ...

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