Saturday, September 27, 2008

a cricket in Southern China with a hollow song.
sounds like: not so much a real insect
a recording. a simulacrum of an insect
a cricket ringtone. my mandarin,
my english to my chinese colleagues
hollow. the outside of meaning only.

Bat watching in Guiyang: a bat shaped hole against the sky.

The endless call and response of car horns
falls into an evening lull, over the ceaseless drones
of rooftop fans
guards mill smartly nine floors below
up here, the electric chatter of echolocations
bat shaped black holes
tracers across a violet sky

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