Sometimes we cried from exhaustion, the unknowns of the pandemic, and the suffocating feeling of loving a person so much you wanted to climb into their mouth.

You had no intention of ringing the bell, acting as if nothing had happened, as if five years were enough time to fill the emptiness she left behind.

"My approach draws from the Chinese zhiguai tradition, the genre of ‘strange tales’ that cannot be translated directly through the lens of horror."

"My practice is rooted in the veneration of narratives as the truest markers of ancestry and lineage."

"I was the first cigarette, untouched out of a new pack, she inhaled me"

"I’ve done some rash, impulsive shit in the name of love—built monuments to things that didn’t last. I mapped out futures for people who never asked for permanence."

"Lose something every day — drop coins / from the hole in your pocket, go hungry / at school."

"老家 are the characters: old and home. Which is better translated as one’s 'ancestral home.' The 老家 is the place and community where your lineage can be traced."

"These words, herbs, and visions accompanied me through a monthlong spiritual ceremony of separation."

"I have hunted for Mother / Howled at Mother Moon / Pricked my healing with Mother Cactus / Touched my pleasure parts, the Mother Wound"

"to stay together means not to begin living / to begin living is a separation"

"LA was where I came to understand myself, and where I came to learn from decades of organizing and Asian diaspora history in North America."

"unwieldy love ritual of spring- / time pushing golden violet into the sky as / trinket and incense, your voice / in my warm hand. Who are you / in your dreams?

"Our resistance—as dense, multiple, and multiplying as forests and old growth—must outsize these legacies."