September 29 – October 5, 2014: Dah and Ying Wu

Dah and Ying Wu

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Bio (auto)

Dah’s poetry has appeared, most recently, in The Sandy River Review, Stone Voices Magazine, Diverse Voices Quarterly, Orion headless, River & South Review, Miracle Magazine, and The Muse, and is forthcoming in The Cape Rock, Eunoia Review, Perfume River Review, Literature Today, Poetry Pacific, Zygote in my Coffee, Red Wolf Journal, Deep Tissue Magazine, Jellyfish Whispers, Dead Snakes Journal, and Rose Red Review. The author of two collections of poetry from Stillpoint Books, Dah lives in Berkeley, California where he teaches Chakra Four Yoga to children and adults while working on the manuscript for his fourth book.
He is waiting on the publication of his third book from Stillpoint Books.

The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by Dah and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


The certainty of always,
its limitless clamor.

Under the sky it magnifies
blood-warmth, landscapes,
the beauty of loneliness.

Primal energy, unleashed
and realized,
it built its temple, set its tempo,
and most life is drawn to it,
mixed by it, baked by it.

Glory, praise, sun, circle of gold,
deadly impurities, fury, irritation,
inflamed brew.

Glory, praise, hot mouth, swollen
fire-tongue, vast inferno,
supreme and immense within
this quivering space that pulled
it together
and lifted it into place and hung it
like a bare bulb from a naked electric wire.


Ying Wu

Bio (auto)

Ying Wu lives on a sailing vessel moored in the San Diego Bay on the coast of southern California. She is a researcher at the Institute of Neural Computation of UC San Diego, where she studies EEG brain dynamics mediating learning and communication. She seeks to draw connections between the arts and sciences. For instance, how can writers and artists capitalize on ever-expanding research revealing how we encode, comprehend, and remember? How can poetry and art enhance brain research? Her scientific work has appeared in journals including PLoS One, Brain and Language, and Psychophysiology. Her creative work has been featured in Poetry in Motion and Teacup Magazine. She is a recipient of a fellowship from the Oregon Institute of Literary Arts.

The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by Ying Wu and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


You glance my way between texting.
 The napkins have this starchy feel.
 Your dad wants something meatless.
 You don’t like olives, parmesan, or beans.
 You stumble over words like
…..funghetti and cacciatore.
 A c before a high front vowel
…..becomes an affricate, I say.
 You roll your eyes.
 The waiter leaves.
You were twelve when I first met you –
…..freckles, dimples, golden hair.
You turned a cartwheel on the carpet.
…..I clapped; you looked away.

I tried buying things you asked for –
a caramel cheesecake sundae
(which you left half eaten in the car),
or purple clogs with sheepskin trim
(which you wore only once ‘cause they chafed your toes).

 We rode Splash Mountain’s Hydroplunge;
you bragged about your mom’s new pool.
 Complained our water tasted thick.
Complained we served grilled cheese,
…..and not panini.
Remarked your dad and I
…..weren’t married in a church.
And spun this tale about the balance beam –
… you won first place.
The regionals would be in Salem.
 “You should come!”
 You were fourteen then.
You’d long since quit gymnastics.
The napkins aren’t quite white –
…..more like ivory or eggshell.
You made varsity, you say.
Your elbow hurts.
You wrecked your car.
Your mom drove straight from work,
…..held the ice pack in the ER.
You need running pants.
You won’t have time for us tomorrow.

I’m eating pasta tossed with seafood now –
…..bits of scallop, bits of clam.    
The napkins have an almond tinge. 
Your dad and I have jobs in Sacramento.
I’m passing you the butter.
It’s been three years
…..since we saw you last.
I’m asking how you like the bread.



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