Contributions
- Flash Fiction: “Nova” by Kimmy Chang
“‘Nova’ is a lyrical second-person story about the narrator’s first true encounter with death…the story presents loss not as beautiful in itself, but as the place where beauty begins.” Read the first original fiction piece of the Summer 2026 issue, “Nova” by Kimmy Chang.
About the Contributor
Kimmy Chang is a McKinney-based writer and computer-vision engineer. A 2026 Writers’ League of Texas Fellow and Pushcart Prize nominee, her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Apple Valley Review, Qu Literary Magazine, The Lascaux Review, and trampset, among others.
Recent Work
- Poem: “Before We Give Back the Keys” (The Lascaux Review)
- Poem: “Citrus” (Qu)
- Flash Fiction: “Umeboshi” (Apple Valley Review)
- Poem: “Still Life with Passive Penciling” (Hollow and Sky)
- Poem: “Daltokki’s Time-Lapse of a Noni” (The Disappointed Housewife)
Contributor Q & A
Can you tell readers a little about yourself and your life?
Two of these are true, and one is a lie ~ or at least partly a lie ;):
1. I devoutly keep up with every new anime season, with a near-exclusive preference for BL.
2. I have a weekly pizza + movie night with my husband. Recent watches: Spotlight (2015) and Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003).
3. My dog (Kakuni, aka “pork belly”) and cat (Muki, aka “muscle”) both love listening to poetry readings ~ they almost always come running.
How long have you been a writer and how did you get started?
I’ve always wanted to be a writer. As a kid, I imagined writing sweeping fantasies and moving strangers with witty sentences. But I also believed writing was a gift ~ you either had it or you didn’t. Somewhere along the way, even while studying under Richie Hofmann and Aria Aber at university, I convinced myself I didn’t. So after graduation, I stopped.
Two years later, my dog died, and I started writing again. Not deliberately. Grief simply metabolized into words. A crutch, perhaps, but one that became a lever. Around the time of my first literary debut, my stutter disappeared. Lunch chats with my husband over bamboo-pork buns became substantially more nuanced. Poetry collections began appearing between git pulls and code errors.
There wasn’t a pivotal moment when I realized I wanted to be a writer. At some point, writing simply became indispensable. Not a gift, so much as a condition.
What’s an accomplishment in your writing life of which you’re proud and what do you still hope to acheive?
I’m proud to be a Writers’ League of Texas Fellow. My dream? Many years in the making, but definitely publishing my first chapbook!
What do you look for in a book?
“There’s a certain Slant of light, / Winter Afternoons—” (Emily Dickinson, 320). This couplet ~ the flow and ebb of it ~ is the spirit of what I look for in books. There’s a similar sentiment in one of my favorite poets, Richard Siken, in “The Way the Light Reflects”:
The paint doesn’t move the way the light reflects,
so what’s there to be faithful to? I am faithful
to you, darling. I say it to the paint.
Sometimes it’s in the voice (Mikhail Bulgakov, Fyodor Dostoyevsky), or the literal linework of the narrative (Tatsuki Fujimoto, Kentaro Miura). Sometimes it’s simply a moment that stops me mid-read. The burst of laughter when Howl, drunk beyond reason, declares, “I assure you, my friends, I am cone sold stober.” How often I recall the bittersweet victory of Okei in Dazai’s “Seascape with Figures in Gold.” Ultimately, it’s that rush of pure magic ~ the feeling that makes me copy a line down or redraw a manga panel in my sketchbook.
Contents
“This language offers one possible framing through which to appreciate the law’s capacity to hope for, request, and even command commitment to a more just future.” Read two poems by Maggie Wang, our first biweekly poet of the Summer 2026 issue, along with a few words about “Possibilities for Action.”
Chapbook Poem: I’ll Never Look This Good Again by Douglas Piccinnini
“[The poem] came out of real pressure: despair, worry, and grief I wanted to hold unflinchingly, alongside the anxiety of becoming a parent… For me the poem became a meditation on all the feeling that surfaces precisely when we’re told to feel only joy.” Read an excerpt from Douglas Piccinnini’s chapbook, House of Bad Memories, along with a few words from the poet.
“She sees herself in carbon, the element that bonds with almost anything- not because it wants to, but because it has empty spaces and things keep showing up to fill them. Notifications. Noise. Needs that never stop arriving.” Read four poems by Joely Williams, our second biweekly poet of the Summer 2026 issue, along with a few words about “Single Mother Considers the Periodic Table.”
ADHD in a Non-ADHD World: on Undersight by Alison Hurwitz
“[Hurwitz] shares moments of angst and moments of awe. More than that, there are moments of deep recognition. She sees herself in [her sons] and, in fact, receives a later-life ADHD diagnosis of her own.” Read the full chapbook review by new contributor, Nancy Murphy.
“The woman’s head & hair are lavishly dressed. I probably leapt off the logic of the hairdresser being blind and therefore had to work on the head/body/mind rather than just hair as a surface issue of presentation.” Read two poems by Irene Cunningham, our third biweekly poet of the Summer 2026 issue, along with a few words about “The Blind Hairdresser.”
Flash Fiction: Nova by Kimmy Chang
“‘Nova’ is a lyrical second-person story about the narrator’s first true encounter with death…the story presents loss not as beautiful in itself, but as the place where beauty begins.” Read the first original fiction piece of the Summer 2026 issue, “Nova” by Kimmy Chang.
“To fit the nuanced, dimensional experience of dysphoria and transition into narrative…often feels flattening, falsely assured. I wanted to look at this discomfort I felt, to see what was necessary in it.” Read three poems by Joshua Zeitler, our fourth biweekly poet of the Summer 2026 issue, along with a few words about “Cobbling.”
Excerpt: “On the puzzle still inside my head” by Truong Tran
“I am trying to excavate memories. I am trying to negotiate the difficult realities of existing as a brown man in this country and within the consciousness of white America.” Read an excerpt from Truong Tran’s forthcoming book from City Lights, How to Exi(s)t: A Poet’s Memoir.
“These poems try to make sense of how I arrived at a life that probably seems well thought-out, but has been one reactionary choice after another.” Read three poems by A.R. Dugan, our fifth biweekly poet of the Summer 2026 issue, along with a few words about “Sleeptalking.”
Original Fiction: Muse by Somtoo Celestine Ezioha
“What I tried to trace was the underside. How watching someone closely for long enough becomes a substitute for approaching them.” Read the second original fiction piece of the Summer 2026 issue, “Muse” by Somtoo Celestine Ezioha.
“After childbirth, my body became a site of criticism rather than something to be celebrated for what it had endured and created. Writing this became a way to confront that experience…” Read three poems by Tanya Tuzeo, our sixth biweekly poet of the Summer 2026 issue, along with a few words about “i get Botox.”
“Through images of a familiar street, personal belongings, and a figure suspended in time, the poem considers absence, remembrance, and the quiet ways we continue searching for those who are gone.” Read two poems by Aardhra Chandran, our seventh, and final, biweekly poet of the Summer 2026 issue, along with a few words about “Street View, 2021.”
Original Fiction: Aletheia by Kalliste Hardy
“Each fragment opens a door to the unsaid or the forgotten, letting language bruise and bloom. It is a study in red, in inheritance, in language, and of the quiet haunt of becoming.” Read the third, and final, original fiction piece of the Summer 2026 issue, “Aletheia” by Kalliste Hardy.