28.0: SECRET CITIES



The Lunchbox Review

The Lunchbox is a convenient take-away food shop in Hunter Street, Sydney, next door to the Tobacconist and a few shops down from the well-known Golf Shop. The proprietress, Mrs Beatrice B. prides herself on providing fresh food daily. Sandwiches …

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\Bushwick\

Midnight Market: whole damn city & you pick yourselves over not saying you don't waste Goddamn you waste whatever you can peanuts in shells on Circus bar floor to real bamboo toothpicks holding olive over thimble ful of martini in …

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\Longhu\

Midnight Market: when old women have reclaimed s(h)aved bamboo sticks for pineapple cow carvings & stinky tofu when only KTV lights chase each other & streetbulbs cased in plastic flowers have dimmed to match sky we lift up skin plastic …

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Tibetan Internet Shield

Chinese text 03:     Near the city centre's First Ring Road a bus explodes like a repressed memory: a shoddy job, done fast & dirty many years ago; in an alleyway, an outline knives a young Han couple. For …

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The White Horse

Chinese text 01:     Wanting so much to learn the classifier for poems about classifiers, I sought out the wisest teacher; she handed me a black ceramic pot the spout of which now daily flowers into smog. I needed …

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Open City

Like breathing out forever we announce our imminent absence. The oracle told each of us at the same time in a specific voice that the great conversation of armed rhetoric and counter-attack that the flags and insignia, the fine, high …

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Axes of Orientation

sit in parks with leaves as feet the eloquence of the day waning as seeds become antiques (the stairs lead to carparks and loose bricks) razor wire curls to your emergency ears you seek assistance green for timetables red for …

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Beirut Cyber Café (make love not war)

a furtive smile behind screen beheading's no way to heart images of catalyst eyes and infant crimes foreign to endorphin lands bums cupped on plastic seats only the absent seek jihadi clips the rest post boasted worth and doctored skin …

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Sarajevo Snow

as shells purr through darkness tomcat black my palms read the stone between blasts your letter folded twice over in my hip pocket worthy of pilgrimage through fated streets the summer dark turned to glory I crawl into the square …

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Late Winter

Sunday night. Faint sirens paint the town. I am thinking of the forest at the city limits, of tall pines creaking in the still air. How long they have stood there waiting for the osprey to return and fix their …

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Snow in Linfen

Pine trees bend with snow. In their essays, Chinese students write 'dialectically' and 'imperialistic', words I've not read in an academic while. Japanese teacher Yoko asks, 'Do your students ask personal questions?' Each culture is different, but ironing jeans, in …

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Recording not Thinking in Melbourne

The man wearing a pink plastic nose held on by his glasses is carrying an Adelaide Writers' Festival bag. Once off the tram he lights a cigarette, cupping the nose against the wind. 'During the night, there was a TV …

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