Fish Sauce Metonymy: On Vi Khi Nao’s “The Italy Letters”
When the body is only a body in fantasy, speech acts are the only acts possible. Words are slippery and the narrator is twisted up in them like sardines.
Quarter in Review: On Embarrassment, Lyric Mortality, and Voight-Kampff Testing
It is considered unprofessional. It feels bad. It is a bad look. How is writing supposed to feel, supposed to look?
Suicide and Oranges: An Interview with Vi Khi Nao
In reading my work, you may have already eaten an entire fishing village and a boatful of suicidal aches. I used to stare at the ceiling a lot and it used to be my primary mode of creativity.