STICK A -PUNK ON IT

1/3/15

Fogbank cap-punctuated terawatt LED arrays—light theory from near futures, alternate worlds
B
ought on speculation, pure abundance you imagine and you buy it—lights coursing up & out & through
White-red-green-blue-white-mirrorball Pudong from the Bund, golden terroir above the muck-black Huangpu
Silver scales where you go down, old fish, where the go-downs went, the docks, catfish mudflat rats, bamboo everything
Sepia-toned coolies, ladders, European and white American race enthusiasts out for a day at the track
Today’s tourism tunnel and the ’30s wallpapered Deco dummies beneath
Tibet Road, Line 1 Entrance, People’s Park overlaid on the Concession-era colonial pony oval

Until the fireworks crowd surges down the promenade, down Zhongshan Yi Lu, the street is China’s China China, same name all over China, everywhere the center, too, all the edges gathered, attending power, hoping to, polished floors, Heaven reflecting us there, and blood, too

 

as underground live streaming
from the Bund Sightseeing Tunnel 

 

where up from hungry Hell or worse,

thirsty Heaven, floating sudden down

 

*

not yours

the blood

not yet

 

 

*

 

I was never there 

and even if I was

I didn’t see anything

 

 

Nanjing Dong Lu: Forever 21, your surprise companions, they

go with you when your heart stops, Eight of Them, Immortals, riding 

in Lotus, Ferrari, Maserati, Porsche, Tesla, Lamborghini, Jaguar
& Hummer

 

in that Floating World made 

 of engineers, managers, floating on

 

peasant vendors on trikes hauling all

 

below to the Sorrowful World: There, where 

 

I enter Uniqlo

 

*

 

The Tunnel is real takes you through MAGMA and HADES to PUDONG

in SK People Movers to 2001 where one may still 

believe in old futures, something Vegas fantastic 

in space, even, and yet time only

travels backwards through you

who remember nothing 

but the world as it was

not as it couldn’t have been

but was for your memory 

speaking its wonderful

lies flash-frightened

you may smile

 

*

Spirit money for souls of those 

departed as here rumor burns 

 

and speculations run to cash coupons
float down from the club above 

 

the Neocolonial balcony over the Bund
where Opium-for-silver inscribed 

 

Ghost web headline: RELATIVES OF MISSING VICTIMS STORM HEAVEN