The capital
The real is as blank as
a piece of well-drawn paper,
rubbed not clean for the new.
The red trace is there,
empty space is also there
suddenly blank you feel
or maybe confused
like the taste of the vegi-dumpling.
The night I was a fool with
the vulgar songs at local bars
penetrating memories like the heavy rain.
The stomach is full,
ears are also full
of the twisting tongues
like the mind of the lady white.
Signages are planted yet
the opposite shore seems far
with ads replacing the old compass.
The palace is forgotten,
hu-tongs are also forgotten
behind the glamorous windows
that glitter through the smog & grey.
1 Comments:
I really like the shot of the lamps - and it's nice to find another praecox out there... really caught my attention.
If photography is more than just a hobby for you (or at least one you like) check out www.deviantart.com - it's this amazing artist's gallery/forum/community.
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