A thin letter from the Likely Review sits in my mailbox. I will use my scythe to exhume the letter from its holder. In the mailbox, the envelope dozes atop a coupon From Bed Bath and Beyond, a material image of sorts. Above, the clouds are clouding around me. This draws up existential questions, and
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No, Sister Gertie, A rose is a flower is a resurrection is an erection is a momento is an Is. ———— Li Min Hua is the author of 1,918 published poems and essays. He has edited special issues of College English and Margins. He has written three poetry volumes Sunspots (Lotus Press, Detroit, 1976) Midnight
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Radiant sunshine bursts through the living room window with enthusiasm and the birds perched on the blossoming trees outside chirp a cheery tune. Dolly Parton is on VH1 singing, “Better Get to Livin’” and there I am lying on the floor, after choking on the first bite of my bagel, dead. Clichéd and ironic, don’t
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When we bitch and moan, Coach always goes, “There’s no ‘I’ in Team, and there’s no ‘God’ in America.” Then he makes us run laps. My parents tried to get me into the Catholic school; I passed the entrance exam and wrote an essay entitled, “My Relationship with Jesus” and everything but then they got
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Right at the end of the nineteenth century, when many people were holding their breath and acting more piously than usual (just in case God decided to end the world), a lowly young soldado near the Presidio of Santa Barbara was caught by two Indian women while he preformed a horrendous carnal act. His name
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