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About this poet

May Yang is a first-generation Hmong-American artist, writer, and ethnographer from California. Writing under the persona HAUNTIE, she is the author of To Whitey and the Cracker Jack (Anhinga Press, 2017), which was selected by Evie Shockley for the 2016 Robert Dana Prize in Poetry. 

Mapping Home

by HAUNTIE
 
Body
 
A meeting place between the many times that came before it
These times, the trajectories that brought me to be here now
 
Body
 
A passing form
like a flower
the slowest moment of rupture in a single time
 
in time—body as memory
through time—body as home
with time—body as matter
 
i am body, yet i do not claim body
i never meant to sever with ink
 
What is the act of mark making, if not to define?
And what is definition, if not without exclusion?
What is exclusion, if not the cutting of matter?
 
The abstraction of cartography occurs
when the difference of parts is blurred
and lines are no longer visible
and place is not but visceral.
 

From To Whitey & the Cracker Jack (Anhinga Press, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by May Yang. Reprinted by permission of Anhinga Press.

From To Whitey & the Cracker Jack (Anhinga Press, 2017). Copyright © 2017 by May Yang. Reprinted by permission of Anhinga Press.

May Yang

May Yang

May Yang is a first-generation Hmong-American artist, writer, and ethnographer from California. Writing under the persona HAUNTIE, she is the author of To Whitey and the Cracker Jack (Anhinga Press, 2017), which was selected by Evie Shockley for the 2016 Robert Dana Prize in Poetry. 

by this poet

poem
by HAUNTIE
 
Some time ago pale bodies slipped into Indochina and harvested
slave bodies to sow opium and mine silver. These slaves developed a
dependency on this unsustainable
poem

 

my words are impoverished,
i don’t make cents here

a mouth that has no reason,
has no season

how sad it is that life is bent,
on how well you spoke

 

a bull’s thistle and a fox’s tail
 

You had taken your leave when the

2
poem
by HAUNTIE
 
i am straddling memory and the present tension
muscles turning into stone from the weight of time
how do you understand me in all of your knowing?
 
i am standing at crossroads
and there are many of them, one on top of the