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.