| Baobao Zhang currently attends boarding school in Alexandria, VA. She serves as the editor-in-chief of her high school newspaper and literary magazines. Her poems have been published in READ magazine, WORD blog, Wordsmith, and The Daemon. In 2008, she was awarded a fellowship to study at the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C.
In addition to her various literary pursuits, Baobao founded Stand & Voice magazine, an on-line quarterly of teen writing and art. |
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| Katie Dear
Papa was a rolling stone, she says -- shuffling a deck of cards missing its joker. Go with the Gypsy Davy, sing with the Gypsy Dave. Mama was just seventeen, she says. I refuse to listen. Turn aside to my Tennessee music box. Good night, Katie. Goodbye, Katie dear. Mama's got a silver dagger, she says— ain't afraid to kill the likes of you. I refuse to listen. A silver streak of highway howled in night, sweet harmony against the starless air. It calls me, I say. It calls me, Katie dear. |
| Baobao Zhang |
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| Small Time Blues
Lost in a drizzle of autumn rain, lost in the spirit of '68, we drifted away with the small time blues. An old melody, like slow creaks of a rocking chair or distant howls from a Richmond train, found its way through our tangled hearts. 'Neath the dim light of our front porch, I watched Willie's agile hands dance across his guitar to the count of two-and-four. As his warm gaze locked into mine, our voices, too, mingled into one -- and it lingered like a feather on the breath of God. |