Son of a Bitch by J.D. Isip
Five dollars, mama, he’d say and, because it was cheaper than wondering why, you gave it. Then ten. Then twenty. I did the best I could, you’d say and, because that seemed…
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J.D. Isip
Writing by J.D. Isip published in Dual Coast Magazine. 5 pieces from the archive, free to read.
More poetry · more fiction from the Dual Coast Magazine archive.
Filipino Food by J.D. Isip
We leave the head on, bones to pick out; eating can be a chore, so many utensils so we go without fingers like kung-fu (but we’re not that kind of Asian) scoop…
Vomit by J.D. Isip
It wasn’t, of course. That sour, rusty odor sent coworkers, us, tipping trashcans, sniffing at counters, at the air, wide-eyed like deer so sure death is crouching in that scent. After two…
Pitfalls by J.D. Isip
Thinking there was more time, waiting out an evening or forty, supplicating words stillborn and scattered in that stone gray sunrise that settles nothing, promises only a new monochrome world risen like…
Faraway Words on Jars by J.D. Isip
Tea leaves, tarot, astrological promises, questions about the man you were seeing, Filipino? What province? Prick size? She’d call you comrade, give us all Coffee with Borden’s and pandesal “Play your games,”…