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.





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







dragon eyes



sister you are missed




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