After 1980, Southern China
In the morning I was standing on Fuyong Pier when
the oystered aroma from Kowloon vented
through the cathaya trees, whiffling against these
evergreens. Knowing that it's just another day in
the country-side where variations of country swings
lace on top of one another, I set out into the sea,
In the evening I returned and traced the silhouette of
the Hong Kong skylines from a distance, the lights
so bright, cleaving up the coagulated moist air.
I travel across the mud carpeted pavement with the
sounds of construction already drowning out the cacophony
of darting swallows; it’s a city losing allegiance to nature.
Perhaps Hong Kong has cast its shadow upon us, or
Tudi Gong simply has lost his temper, that night a flood
from the West washed in, gnashing through the fishnets and
boats starting with the appearance of the two golden
arches on Dong Men Street.
As the flooding eased, the Western wind still lingered
with the hymns of Bob Dylan – “You're invisible now,
you've got no secrets to conceal.”
after 1980, southern china
BY yixuan wu