0910-2018

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ADJACENCY
Writings by Gary Michael Dault
based on Lee Ka-sing's photographs
from LIGHT READINGS series


(There was a full moon)

No.118: The Moon is Down

Well, as we know, clocks tell us little. They invariably come back to where they were and then start all over again into the weary round.

The moon, by contrast, is as various as waves on the shore or blood's surge around the transits of the body. Anything can happen

MOON SONG (to be accompanied by ukulele)

The moon is down
the moon is blue
the moon is pinned
up over you

The moon is wan
the moon is pale
the moon is white
and has a tail

The moon is sweet
the moon is new
the moon is calling
after you

The moon is old
the moon is cracked
the moon is last night’s
artifact

The moon is down
And gone to sea
The moon is you
The moon is me.


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Greenwood
by Kai Chan


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Bowse Kai Chan's work available at M shop

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Coffee and Tea 鴛鴦偶寄
by Holly Lee


Que Será, Será (a song from my photo album)

At sweet sixteen
we lived in North Point
a skyscraper built on a hill
overlooking the crescent harbour
Victoria and its typhoon shelter
fish boats, sail boats
safe at bay, Causeway Bay
little bay, Wan Chai
the big pill Damaru

Where were you
when we're in white school uniforms
you must have been writing poems
saving up lunch money
buying books outside of
school curriculum

In the evening I did dishes
eyeing the million-dollar sunset
the little radio I tied up
to a battery pack with a plastic band
airing songs the Beatles sang
'she loves you yeah yeah yeah'
that Winter
a Siamese cat we later called Pussy
got lost between twenty floors
marched out from the elevator
and entered our door
he would jump and sleep on my feet
only to be kicked out of bed

When we were busy teasing our cat
riots broke out like poppy flowers
you must have been busy helping your father
in the make-shift family darkroom
printing photographs of
left wing propaganda

Pussy loved to sit on
uncle George's warm
birch plywood hi-fi set
he sometimes would put on
aunt Manah's favorite
33 1⁄3 rpm vinyl record
Doris Day's hit on Billboard
Que Será, Será
what ever will be will be
cousin Lolly and I were almost twins
we wore similar perm hair and identical jeans

Aunt Florine came every New Year's day
brought me birthday cards I saved
in my photo album I also kept
the Christmas card I once designed
and won the book Cuore as a price
a book I haven't read
the heart of a boy I never met

Where were you when the cold wind blew
you were playing
little photo stall keeper
underneath your building's staircase
teaching customers
how to load films
into their Agfa
Brownie or Exakta

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The Transformation
by Lee Ka-sing


Wednesday, September 5, 2018

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Tabletop Studio
by Gary Michael Dault

No.179. Sanctuary

Ever since his left eye had declined into cloudiness and had been repaired, his gratitude for a clarified vision had burgeoned way beyond his lifelong romance with painting and had now reverted--or was it progressed?--to a realm of desire that dwelt in nature's minute, transformative moments. He was all at once experiencing a new hunger for trees, for hours spent by the shore, for animals of every stripe, for the vaulting birds, cloud forms. Grasses and weeds. He found the bushes of goldenrod burning beside the roads he drove on to be miraculous, manifestations of a floral El Dorado.

He was an artist and he had turned his back on nature for most of his life. Now it was insistently there again--as it had been when he was a child--seductive, promising, hectic and soothing at the same time--Andre Breton's convulsive beauty, without the artifice.

A couple of days ago, he had purchased at a garage sale a book called A Sanctuary Planted. It is by someone named Walter J.C. Murray, and had been published in London in 1954 by The Country Book Club (for "subscribers" only; you couldn't buy the book at the time). It's an account of the author's decision that, despite the Battle of Britain raging overhead ("War ploughs the heart and harrows the mind"), to secure a piece of land and plant a vast, complex, all-encompassing garden there. "I would plant a woodland," he writes, "where where every living thing would find sanctuary. I would encourage birds to come and live near me with trees and shrubs and mown paths, with food and water, and never the sound of a gun. And he does. That's what his enchanting book is about.

He entered the book as of it were an abode. What longings it engendered in him!

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CHEEZ
by Fiona Smyth

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Caffeine Reveries
by Shelley Savor



City Creature

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MONDAY ARTPOST
with columns by Artist and Writer
ISSN 1918-6991
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