Allan Cho

4 Art by Mos Sukjaroenkraisri Ganges A fisherman cast his net. A human hand came up with the fish. The fish had eaten all the flesh. The hand resembled marble. Inside the clenched fist, a single ten-rupee coin. Firewood beyond reach. The fare home untouched. The fisherman opened the fist and took the coin. Children searched through trash washed onto the shore. *** New Moon An icicle hangs from Arctic eaves. The last polar bear dug a den and gave birth. The air softened too soon. She stretched upward.

2 bodies like old parchments, numb and cold minds like trash bins full of colours and critiques souls like invisible quivering dots in the dead night sky, there must be a name for this – a concept unrealized and left to question itself – a history yet to be told in inelegant numbers – a life hiding in the ever-winter of dispersed thoughts – us queers stuck in crosswires – i have passed – you have passed – we all have slowly passed – waiting for anything beyond the world defined in small glass...

4 Illustration by Arty Guava I All the landscapes I have ever seen condense into a single drop of ink, merging water and sky into one. Facing the sea and the slow ignition of sunrise, I make a vow: to inscribe all things between heaven and earth into the treasury of pictographic characters. It was his hands that turned bone into rails— the Canadian Pacific Railway.