Ah sun how you squint through this yellow fog
as if your yolk burst.
All of Beijing fades behind me...
before me...like memory.
We stroll a stone path around a lake
shops lit by red lanterns and laser sparkles.
Lady want see my store?
Lady want drink my disco?
Air gritty on my tongue,
thick in my lungs
Two-step dancers and paddle boats sway
lights scattering into inky ripples.
Let wind from the ocean or mountains
wash this sky blue tomorrow.
|Outside our hotel, Beijing, 4 pm, hazardous smog.|
The Drum Tower
Built in 1272 during the reign of Kublai Kahn
24 drums thrummed the evening hours,
using water clocks and incense timers...
Three times it has been rebuilt from ashes.
Now the arched roof keeps acid rain
off the one remaining drum.
A single oxhide wide, bearing sword scars
from the allied invasion of 1901.
Isn't history fun?
|Drum Tower on smoggy night behind hutong rooftops.|