Feb 5, 2017

"A Shark is an Animal That Blushes When You Touch Its Face" in Pacifica Literary Review

A shark has a hide like a rhino’s that bruises like the thinnest skin. When frightened they go pale. When touched on the snout, the pads of your fingers leave patterns like swirling rain...
Read the rest of this story in Issue #9 of the Pacifica Literary Review! Currently available for purchase online or in bookstores including at San Francisco's Green Apple Books.

Dec 18, 2016

"Last Typhoon in Kyoto" in NANO Fiction

Do you remember? we said. All the storms that didn’t come. Once a year, every year, every year until tonight. Maybe the last time will finally be the one...
Read the rest of this (extremely short, 150-word) story in NANO Fiction Vol. 10, Number 1. Currently only available as part of a print or ebook issue.

Jul 29, 2016

"What Little Water Was Left" in Booth

The scene: mid-summer, 1998. My father and I were in our yard putting together an aboveground pool. My mother was in the garden, pulling some turnips, and just around the corner Mr. and Mrs. Onishi were taking their dog for a walk. Late evening, the cicadas winding down, those black-and-white striped mosquitos that we killed by the thousands each summer just beginning to take their place...
Read the rest in Booth.

Jun 30, 2016

"Incredible Lifelike Whale Comes Up for Air, Again and Again" in Buffalo Almanack

My father’s funeral: my aunt says a few words, my mother cries upstairs, and I sit in the boarding area of gate 23B, Guam International Airport, watching the silent news on CNN...
Read the rest in Buffalo Almanack. Winner of the Inkslinger Award.

Jun 29, 2016

"The Truth About Distance" in Wildness

On the television screen there were elevated highways lying on their sides like resting greyhounds, buildings fallen face first in the dirt...
Find the rest of this short story in Wildness.

May 20, 2016

"Homecoming" in Storm Cellar Quarterly

Look around you, I tell him. All gone, all gone. Wheel-barrowed, bucket-brigaded, tractor-trailered away. Bent backs, rounded footprints, all gone, all gone...
Read the rest of this (extremely short, 150-word) story in Storm Cellar Quarterly. Currently only available as part of a print or ebook issue.

May 10, 2016

Two Stories in Wyvern Lit

My mother looks at night across the San Francisco Bay at the city shining through the fog and what she sees is not the city or the fog but the California light. The light at night, which is like a match after you’ve snuffed it out and all you see is the afterglow where your fingers used to be...
Read the rest of "That California Light" as well as the companion piece "Air Raid Siren" in Wyvern Lit. For those interested in the bombing raid recounted in the first story, you can read an interview with a survivor of the Kumagaya Bombing (in Japanese) here.