China is a glassy tree

China is a glassy tree lit by lightning funnelled like neon the tree falls into a field of flames
China is the arm of a god who scoops up little Chinese women from the celestial bridge.
China is a pool table in a black and white film about green tea

Are we waiting in meaningless longing for China to become cathartic?

China is a slither of moonlight from a broken crescent moon that floats like a feather from the dragon’s war song
that tore out the lungs of the Tong Emperor as he floated on the melodious song of the Yellow River
And here in the inner world where no Chinaman has been
The Phoenix appears like a black corpse eaten by tigers as the flimsy silk gowns of Chinese girls are like cumulus clouds in mid-day sky who vanish when the red eyed sun opens up the door to darkness

How the Chinese young played with the ladybirds of future kicking their feet in the clear waters of time
And climbed the trees of everlasting life that grew amongst the distant mountains

Young Chinese lady whose belly is on flame with lust who looks at the flora of the Chines low lands
And sings to the white bones galloping in the horizon whose love grows like a new morning from the new laws of love

Gather China into your bosom and rock her tenderly
Look into the little eyes of China and sing a tender song
And when the hissing of the snake demon upon the Forbidden City stops
The ocean will send sea serpents to war against the shadows of the night

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