There goes the wit wit wit of the bird’s call “Zhe ge dong xi” Foreign murmurs The creak of the ceiling fan Clatters of various keyboards Breath blown across the surface of hot coffee A cacophony Under the sign that has a finger to its…

The girl in the apartment upstairs vacuumed every day — the burr and clatter of the building’s Hoover racketing across wood floor, linoleum, bumping baseboards — the thump of wheels running over the sill between rooms — the motor hum and vibration — that was…

I hope to create in this life more than a noise and to leave behind, as I go, more than an echo. It might seem like vanity, but truly it’s an ambition. For my dreams are surreal and my soul is electric and I hope…