One Poem by Chia-Lun Chang

Our poetry editor, Wendy Xu, has selected one poem by Chia-Lun Chang for her monthly series that brings original poetry to the screens of Hyperallergic readers.

Installation view of Joan Jonas: What Is Found In the Windowless House Is True at Gavin Brown (photo by Elisa Wouk Almino for Hyperallergic)


Against Nostalgia


water between somewhere cider
when volatile sky before sum rain
drops before faces astray raise
your head from a dictionary
raise your hat from one and another
degree put Iowa consciousness down
is age a mother it’s not funny yeah I
am so humid when we lie under
the tree ends up being a meeting five
minutes vague putrid roots there
is no construct nature she ain’t
transplanted seeding


please sometimes I break you
I have been spending my entire
life preparing for leaving grey
peace off making like with myself
wipe out lotus unaided stages


too many tiring people one
step away from disappearing
as soon as they open windows
drip pauses typewriting
mail mechanism out melt
sweat shirt I don’t see
shores pepper blind do you
hear my French war is a peach
of wall war raises waves re-
volution young adults hide
behind hinoki tables you don’t
come to an end I am com-
pliable to answer I think all
I want is being flawless
teary eyes, sparkling tumors so
I go, I lie, I tree and I were



*   *   *

Chia-Lun Chang is the author of a chapbook, One Day We Become Whites (No, Dear/Small Anchor Press), recent writing can be found in Literary Hub, the Brooklyn Rail, and Ugly Duckling Presse’s 6×6 Journal. A semi-finalist for the 2017 Discovery / Boston Review Contest, she has received support from Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, the Center for Book Arts and Poets House. Born and raised in Taipei, Taiwan, she lives in New York City.


Readers are encouraged to submit 3–5 poems as a PDF to Wendy Xu for consideration at [email protected].

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