Notes from the Dragon-Faerie Song
Carrie Chang
No longer playing the magical triangle,
of the sis-bah horn,
I shelter to adorn this richly life,
like a flower born with separate leaves,
and grief that’s like a fairy-thorn,
some witness to this airy love,
of whistle, girl, or “all of the above,”
could make red shingles
in my slimzoid house
turn green, and
some say the words
are still on the screen,
memory dug-out of
The garden’s gut, this gold-finger’s
reaping more than vanity
Carrie Chang was born in New York in 1970, and grew up in California, in the Bay Area.. She has published three books of poetry, Laundromat, and Fairytale Origami, and If Gretel were Chinese. She enjoys the spacy texture of thousand-year-old egg and imperial dan dan noodle eaten in gross contempt of popular diets and such. She is the editor of this fine journal.