by Leah Jun Oh | Feb 27, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
film stars we don’t go to parties in dark sunglasses we keep our mouths closed we stand under neon lights with tall cocktails clothed in navy blue your arm is shadowy under the peach tree listen we could make it in los angeles leave secret...
by Leah Jun Oh | Feb 26, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Sourdough My hands heave with microcosmosis. Under my nails a miniscule municipality with pink glass dome, chipped. There is discontent amongst the denizens. Lactobacilli line up throw bottles of urine at Candida eat each other down dark passages...
by Leah Jun Oh | Feb 25, 2022 | Video
Let Rip: The Beautiful Game From the live euphoria of football, to homosexual desire and the macho body in action, Lee Campbell explores “Balls and sports, men in shorts. Football with Dad both happy and sad. Dad watching one way, me quite...
by Leah Jun Oh | Feb 25, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Talking Dirty Ten years after you died I asked you Was it worth it? and this time you did not answer, your mouth being full of dirt. Dirt followed me around. I spent nights vacuuming and mopping, trying to beat out the echo of your footprints....
by Leah Jun Oh | Feb 24, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
The Nightwatchman Over his shoulder, I’m watching him chew sarnies out of grease-proof, at his last place of work, cracking a pack of Rich Tea. Between one snap and the next, he follows the beam of his torch, ferreting to the four corners of the...
