Snow buries the country. Black-outs,
coal shortages, buses shunted
from highways. A man is crushed
at Guangzhou station. Here, the Spring City,
a month of blue skies, of quiet madness.

 
–
 

The slow crescendo of fireworks
as the New Year draws closer; gunshots
and ricochets, the lit horizon.
Saturday marks some turning point,
the noises are pincers on my brain.

 
–
 

Same time zone, but summer.
She's started running again
and it suits her. She shook the ground,
dislodged my assumptions.
I am most lonely in the mornings.

 
–
 

An argument happens, some stupid matter
of face. Hum of fridge and tv
crowds the room, emphasises
brutal emptiness,
my sudden hatred for this place.