Entry Three – Bamboo / Beilun

When I first arrived, I was scared to spend time outside my hotel room.

I was scared to look different, to not be able to communicate, to get lost, or to – unaware – do something unpolite.

It’s been a month and I love being outside. I love trying new sentences and stumbling my way into new food. I’m filled with my Brazen American Confidence. I know who I am, and I’m not afraid to look foolish. It helps that the people of Ningbo are so kind to me.

These pieces are from city night walks, bamboo forest hikes (including WuLong Pond), and Beilun – where I got lost in an oil port and then got lost on a tranquil neighborhood street where children were leaving a club wearing red kerchiefs (the Chinese version of Komsomol?)


The first thing I see when I get off the subway station at Beilun – unfinished frames of buildings and mountains in the background.

Autumn how do you happen to me every year (rustle) and I

With my mouth full of warm bread and milk tea a

Seven-year-old with a red kerchief in his collar

 – The fabric’s a little transparent –

Circles around me, brazen to be close, too shy to say


I catch his eyes because my hair, my height I

Keep them because

All Children Speak The Same Language that is if you

See them

They will see you back and they

Will not want you to stop looking

Milk Tea // Bread // Pastries


Communism is real and quiet and happens in happy families


Central Park in Beilun, Empty Space



People wonder at me, that I’m all alone

I think being all alone in public is a new act it

Is the sort of thing women only do if they’re

Stupidly brave or Bravely stupid (I am of the sort)

Is it sad if I am calm alone?

Is it radical?

I tried to write a poem about the tangible clatter of bamboo, I got carried away with Sorrowful thinking

But I am not full of sorrow I am full of Solitude and Wonder

Sometimes we get the two confused


Night Smog




The bones

The bones in her were long and


He was crying

She was glamorous

I was high in the neon and the night smog

Did she want him to buy her?

Did she want him to love her?

(I didn’t want her to look at me. I wanted to partake in the secret without getting caught)

What is it like to be a Man?

With a cigarette hanging out of my mouth and a Flame in my groin?

What is it like to be a Man?

And feel empty and need a woman to fill you back up?

Are women allowed to feel this way too?




Roads of Dust a

Packed bus

Humans smell like bananas that were left in the sun

Farmers build smoke out the window

 —- Dusk —-

October is


Always mournful

For me with 

The moon


3 thoughts on “Entry Three – Bamboo / Beilun

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