Dean Gui
Dean Gui is first generation Hong Kong born, having left when he was fifteen from King George V School to finish high school in Saint John’s School of Alberta, Canada, an all-boys’ Anglican boarding school. He spent the next twenty years living in the USA, the first sixteen of those in Chicago, and the last four in California. Getting back into academia was the last thing on his list of things to do after a BA in English and an M.A. in Creative Writing to follow from the University of Illinois… but through the guidance and wisdom of one friend in particular, he taught his first high school English class in 2000. Since then, Dean has made a career of teaching. His poetry has been published in small press around North America, in magazines such as Arizona State Poetry, Innisfree, and Worm Feast.
King
the perfect princess
took off her tiara this morning
after a fierce night
bumping with celeda and the queens
peeling off a cat suit
claws and lashes
she plopped down onto her loo
a darling cigarette between dry lips
bent-over churning inside
exhaling into a black and white
photo album cracked open on the floor
full of black and blue memories
of a little boy
with little girl dreams
pink wallpaper
golden lips
skin like powdered lilies
wishing everyone away
and when the wigless, crownless
princess scratched her balls
clicked her heels three times
and whispered
“there’s no place…”
“there’s no place…”
“there’s no place…”
the sun suddenly disappeared
shadows laid out another line
and with three snorts, starlight, and stardom in her eyes
quasi life had begun again
Eurasian
dragon eyes
durians
guavas
sister you are missed
sinigang
feijoada
lang mein
mother you are missed
peppered gizzard
boiled pig’s blood
fried fermented tofu
grandmother you are missed
hamburger helper
ramen noodles
uncle ben’s
dinners are just not the same
anymore