K-Ming Chang
Si '''K-Ming Chang''' (pinangaki kan 1998) nakaistar sa New York alagad nagdakula sa California.<ref>https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/2211921/k-ming-chang/</ref> Nagi sya nin fellow sa Kundiman asin nagi man nin pinalista sa Lambda Literary Award . An saiyang nobelang Bestiary iluluwas sa Setyembre 8,2020 sa irarom kan One World/Random House. An saiyang mga tula nakaayon man sa antolohiya kan  Ink Knows No Borders, Best New Poets 2018, Bettering American Poetry Vol. 3, dangan 2019 Pushcart Prize Anthology. Nakaresibe man sya nin mga fellowships/scholarships hali sa Tin House, Mendocino Coast Writers Conference, Lambda Literary, asin Kearny Street Workshop.<ref>{{Cite web |title=Archive copy |url=https://www.kmingchang.com/about |access-date=2020-05-20 |archive-date=2020-05-01 |archive-url=https://web.archive.org/web/20200501223044/https://www.kmingchang.com/about |dead-url=yes }}</ref> 

Sya man an kagsurat kan ''Past Lives, Future Bodies'' (Black Lawrence Press, 2018). “Resist / Recycle / Regenerate” Program leader man sya kan Wing On Wo Project kun sain nagtatabang sya sa paper-making workshops asin anti-gentrification resistance.<ref>https://poets.org/poet/k-ming-chang</ref>

== Tula ni K-Ming Chang ==

=== POSTCOLONIAL ===
(for Yilan)


here the sun stinks like stillbirth 

& the sky is a stab wound, a gutspill

of light. the body’s largest 

internal organ

is not the heart 

but the stomach. my mother 

learned this in two years

of famine. when the flood

ran past her door, she chose

to save the sack of rice

& not the girl clasping it

to float. she ate her own

tongue, chose swallowing

over speech. children in her village 

were born with their mouths open

-firing. I load my throat

with gunpowder 

& mother strikes me 

like a match. while I sleep

she hot-glues 

my knees together & tells me

every man is a bomb

the radius of your birth

country. silence is a mouth

firing holes into

my first language. on the shore

she gave birth, a Japanese soldier

stabled her with his horse. carved

teeth into dice. if they landed even

       a woman was shot. odd

& rape instead. sometimes

death can wait for a man 

to open his pants. sometimes

the soldier bangs her 

like a door 

& the body answering

from inside 

her body is my body.<ref>http://www.kwelijournal.org/poetry-1/2019/9/6/postcolonial-by-kristin-chang</ref>

== Toltolan ==
<references />

== Panluwas na takod ==
https://aaww.org/postauthor/k-ming-chang/
Si K-Ming Chang (pinangaki kan 1998) nakaistar sa New York alagad nagdakula sa California.https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/2211921/k-ming-chang/ Nagi sya nin fellow sa Kundiman asin nagi man nin pinalista sa Lambda Literary Award . An saiyang nobelang Bestiary iluluwas sa Setyembre 8,2020 sa irarom kan One World/Random House. An saiyang mga tula nakaayon man sa antolohiya kan  Ink Knows No Borders, Best New Poets 2018, Bettering American Poetry Vol. 3, dangan 2019 Pushcart Prize Anthology. Nakaresibe man sya nin mga fellowships/scholarships hali sa Tin House, Mendocino Coast Writers Conference, Lambda Literary, asin Kearny Street Workshop. 

Sya man an kagsurat kan Past Lives, Future Bodies (Black Lawrence Press, 2018). “Resist / Recycle / Regenerate” Program leader man sya kan Wing On Wo Project kun sain nagtatabang sya sa paper-making workshops asin anti-gentrification resistance.https://poets.org/poet/k-ming-chang

 Tula ni K-Ming Chang 

 POSTCOLONIAL 
(for Yilan)

here the sun stinks like stillbirth 

& the sky is a stab wound, a gutspill

of light. the body’s largest 

internal organ

is not the heart 

but the stomach. my mother 

learned this in two years

of famine. when the flood

ran past her door, she chose

to save the sack of rice

& not the girl clasping it

to float. she ate her own

tongue, chose swallowing

over speech. children in her village 

were born with their mouths open

-firing. I load my throat

with gunpowder 

& mother strikes me 

like a match. while I sleep

she hot-glues 

my knees together & tells me

every man is a bomb

the radius of your birth

country. silence is a mouth

firing holes into

my first language. on the shore

she gave birth, a Japanese soldier

stabled her with his horse. carved

teeth into dice. if they landed even

       a woman was shot. odd

& rape instead. sometimes

death can wait for a man 

to open his pants. sometimes

the soldier bangs her 

like a door 

& the body answering

from inside 

her body is my body.http://www.kwelijournal.org/poetry-1/2019/9/6/postcolonial-by-kristin-chang

 Toltolan 

 Panluwas na takod 
https://aaww.org/postauthor/k-ming-chang/