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An Old Man Drew a Circle, and: A Memorial Shed, and: Emperor Penguins on the Square, and: Duckling Dance, and: There Was Planned Work, and: What I Knew, and: Be Good

An Old Man Drew a Circle, and: A Memorial Shed, and: Emperor Penguins on the Square, and:... He Xiang An Old Man Drew a Circle A woman was singing about an old man & his trip south on tv. We laughed at the song, an old man went to the South China Sea & drew a circle. It was springtime, she sang. It was springtime again, she sang, when he returned to behold all that his circle had commanded: cities sprouted up with the ease of a set rolling in at the start of a new act, mountains of gold piled together as if we had never seen gold before (we had never seen gold before). A blueprint for the century to come, a down payment on immortality. Shenzhen was as far as the moon then, as familiar as New York, the fanciest foreign city I could name, no dimension I could tunnel through to in my lonesome, my favorite chair cushion keeping me company, sheets of names for imaginary maids. Now I wonder, did they draw a circle around Tiananmen Square like that old man drew a circle? Did he draw those boundaries too, where roads spat out not money but gunfire? What anchors me as if cinderblock to river homicide, what I can’t surface http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

An Old Man Drew a Circle, and: A Memorial Shed, and: Emperor Penguins on the Square, and: Duckling Dance, and: There Was Planned Work, and: What I Knew, and: Be Good

Prairie Schooner , Volume 93 (3) – Dec 21, 2019

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X

Abstract

He Xiang An Old Man Drew a Circle A woman was singing about an old man & his trip south on tv. We laughed at the song, an old man went to the South China Sea & drew a circle. It was springtime, she sang. It was springtime again, she sang, when he returned to behold all that his circle had commanded: cities sprouted up with the ease of a set rolling in at the start of a new act, mountains of gold piled together as if we had never seen gold before (we had never seen gold before). A blueprint for the century to come, a down payment on immortality. Shenzhen was as far as the moon then, as familiar as New York, the fanciest foreign city I could name, no dimension I could tunnel through to in my lonesome, my favorite chair cushion keeping me company, sheets of names for imaginary maids. Now I wonder, did they draw a circle around Tiananmen Square like that old man drew a circle? Did he draw those boundaries too, where roads spat out not money but gunfire? What anchors me as if cinderblock to river homicide, what I can’t surface

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Dec 21, 2019

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