Tongva Land, Los Angeles, USA Mask Up In my line of organizing work I’m usually down to mask up Cause it means shit’s about to go Down at a public protest And I’m not trying to get doxxed. But this masking up everyday Just to go outside? Just to see people? I hate it. It’s hot, stuffy And becomes a struggle - Harder to breathe Harder to talk Harder to just be Cause I can’t think without this pandemic Hanging over my head. COVID-19, An omnipresent catastrophe Even though my life looks and feels mostly fine Is a cognitive dissonance That’s hard to process But again I’m mostly fine Except when I wear the mask Cause then a mental harangue of <Alert! Stay at home! Alert! Flatten the curve!> <WE ARE ALL IN TERRIBLE DANGER> Rains down And I forget what I’m doing cause This mask is suffocating Like this omnipresent catastrophe. I go by TiDo or 杜雪玲. I use she/her pronouns. I cry over spilt compost. I smile with doggos, hikes, books, and gardens. I don’t just laugh at flatulent humor; I greet my parents with it. And I teach and organize.
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London, UK 38 Days Alone (After Shirley Jackson’s ‘The Real Me’)
After the last one left I swept away their loose hair, wiped their handprints from doors, locked away their skin-smell. I have been cooking pancakes on Sundays and soaking orchids once a week. I am trying to fill this house with myself. Sometimes there is too little of me to flood this vastness and I have to push my ribs back into my body. I have been speaking to people who are not here. Spat at the betrayal of empty bedrooms. Other things left behind like me because they didn’t matter: unplayed boardgames, least favourite books, work shoes, drying towels. In the night when it sounds like strangers have amassed on my floorboards, I go upstairs with the knife I used to chop dark chocolate. I want the ghosts to know I am the only one to haunt here. Christy Ku is a Hong Kong born, London-based multimedia creative. She was one of the top 6 finalists for BBC 1Xtra’s Words First programme 2019. She is a Barbican Young Poet alumna and is also Christy is also a short story writer, podcaster, and photographer. She is working towards her debut poetry collection. Ohio, USA A. Shaikh is an Indian-immigrant writing about her dreams, fears, and everything in between. She is an associate for The Kenyon Review, Editor-in-Chief of Sunset Press, and an Aquarius who loves the color blue. You can find her poems in Jam & Sand Journal, Underblong and forthcoming on poets.org. Her internet thoughts reside @apricotpoet
Nipaluna/Hobart, Australia
minutes rolling into hours pvc protection overlying a world map held captive by my eyes flinging themselves back and forth from hobart to harringay 17390km of air which feels stagnant here so my mind rekindles the energy of final moments away in 3pm afternoon sunlight rippling silhouettes on your linen bedsheets as i try to salvage the blurred sensation of your body contouring mine weeks slowly stretching into months sometimes if the sky is blue i’ll sit outside watching the full sun arcing perpendicular to the horizon as it shortens its path day by day. i dream of summertime reunification south of the black sea and notice my screen time has jumped up 237% from last year as my nights slip into my days or yours and i switch airplane mode off to catch your P3 free. or maybe my call will ring out with broken wifi, miscommunication, misinterpretation forcing me to pull my head out of my phone and feel what it’s like to live in the real world for a little until diving back in again and suddenly months snap into hours panic buying one-way tickets as items are hastily thrown into a case before rising in the darkness of night chasing forever shortening daylight towards winter solstice as you flip your life 17390km and bring lightness to mine olivia (they/she) is a fourth-generation chinese-australian queer writing from nipaluna/hobart, australia, in the slow process of reconnecting with their long-lost chinese heritage. they miss going to the club. Edmonton, Canada
The sweat-slick kiss of the sun Embraces me through every droplet in the air. Mornings greeted by Floral silk pajamas trailing a fruit stand. The walls and outlines that fill the distance Seek rest from those inanimate. The walls built to hold me tight. The passage of time Documented through the ice thawed on the surface Passing rivers and valleys amidst skyscrapers and concrete. Where the same sun kisses through March snowfall. Melissa Bui (she/her) is a Canadian-Vietnamese designer who spends her time reflecting on her diasporic roots and the sense of belonging after living in both Vietnam and Canada and still feeling othered. @melissabuidesign Surrey, UK Haricha Abdaal is a TCK British Indian artist and translator currently based in the UK. She has lived in the UK, South Korea, Canada and India. She loves learning languages and painting. @harichaart / www.harichaart.com
London, UK HOW ARE YOU REALLY? social distancing means time alone with your thoughts / a walk by the canal to feel normal in this 'new norm' / news articles on 'what does dating in a post-covid world look like?' / house parties where no one is in the same house / virtual pub quizzes without sticky floors and overpriced craft ales / feeling lonely even with multiple requests for zoom calls / pornhub premium subscription for free / free yoga apps / free from the monotony of the 9-5 / liberation in isolation for the nation / berated for being less than 2 metres away from people / when will it go away??? / close but not close to family / taking pay cuts and reduced hours / furloughed employees with no aim or purpose / even Boris Johnson has it / your mum thinks he's called John Boris / rudeboys by Camden canal yelling 'jeeeeez' / someone asks ‘you doing a bit of yoga love?’ / no one can buy flour right now / you can't have your two soft boiled eggs for breakfast / a new 9-5 / everyone's baking banana bread / 'quazza' sounds like a Jewish celebration / iso / the Rona / are you lonely like I am? / how are the extroverts holding up? / lots of people asking 'how are you today? no, really how are you? / it’s 4-20 the entire month / it's the real 4-20 today / plenty of time / idle hands and idle minds / you want this to be over and you don't / will we get a summer? / is this just a coronavirus fling? / are you fine or do you want to get caught with a fine? / imitating what you think someone should be doing right now / sat by the canal taking it all in / am I fine? / yes and no, sometimes maybe / sounds like a Radiohead song I know / the gentle waves crash against the dam / it's the same / overheard on the canal 'i really want a dog' ... yea, me too babes me too / some guy saying 'flavour du jour' / flavour du jour is a dalgona coffee / Netflix, i don’t want to watch another episode
Kim Tang is a UX/UI Designer by day and a poet by night. She writes poems her mother wouldn't want to read. Instagram: kimtangclan London, UK
Burrowing out of the duvet Groundhog like Headphones on The soothing tones of Deepak and Oprah Align all that’s out of sync And my tiny world Is alright once again. Jennifer is an actor, film and theatre maker. Durham, United Kingdom PICNIC IN THE PANDEMIC we gather like whole shining marbles tumbling from children's hands into each other without intention or rules or god offer the scant tenderness of salt-water and the dirtiest chords scoured from our exposed grating throats the bird-wing thrumming of an open wound sewing slowly shut and who are we to deny ourselves waiting tangerines that burst on touch or crushed crisps whose salt sticks to the roof of our tired mouths or the wet undressing of every ghost from our past ? a revolt so simple as a willed accident or guiding three pairs of palms press into the little soft button at the nape of your neck letting them witness the triggered opening lotus of your face each ripe petal unfurling the tight unfingered joy underneath Prerana Kumar is is an Indian spoken word artist doing her MA in English at Durham University. Her poetry explores home, belonging, pleasure, and loss by interweaving the personal and the political.
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STAY HOME DIARYan online archive of diary entries by Asian artists and writers, recording our lives from March to April 2020. |