Imaginary Cities | PC Bangs

On Wedenesday I spent an enjoyable evening with my Creative Writing class, who have been a joy to teach and a lot of fun this semester. After starting out rather sedately with some pasta at "The Spoon", things rapidly went downhill, due to the ministrations of soju, baekseju, dongdongju, beer and the strange Korean energy drinks which are like pre-emptive hangover cures. I've posted some photos of the night plus a few poems written by my students using internet search engines. They wish to remain anonymous. I can say, however, that the mittens below belong to Judy. Why am I standing here? Why am I standing here? I am standing here for election as a councillor Pleased and honored as deputy For the Parish of the Castel with which I have a great affinity and where I would intend to continue living. Why am I standing here? I am standing here to see my broken heart. Yet her soul hasn’t been completely gone I am waiting to see the way she will turn around And break my heart. Wh

There was a trumpet somewhere but it was tarnished and could only play the theme from F-Troop. There was a drum but it got broken when someone I once knew drove a fork through it, just for something to do. There was a guitar but three of its strings were missing and noone took me seriously enough to play it. There was a harmonica but it fell in the bath and I left it there to rust. There was a flugel horn but you should ask my sister what happened to it, that day at the performance. There was a triangle but it decided to go to Bermuda for a holiday and, strangely, was never heard from again. There was a bass but it got confused with a US Army installation and was arrested for some trifling offence. There was a keyboard but I used it to write things on my computer and it ended up not being able to produce any sounds at all except for the cowbell. There was a saxophone but that went out of fashion in the 1980s along with shoelace ties and pointy black boots. There was a harp but it got d

sits amongst his wares facing      a heater shaped like a fan with no blades absorbing radiant heat      like sun ra soaking up a cosmos      with white gloves & thin white hair he sits & laughs every time      I try to guess what he just said eg how much to pay for makkolli & then one day he says eh tonight -      snow! as if he knows what I am thinking - how these skies look      pregnant with ice, both of us      smiling and laughing - tonight! only it doesn't snow, not tonight      or any other night this week but still i trudge on down to him & ask tonight snow? at which he      shrugs or laughs or both yes, tonight, snow then i realise      he's been speaking in english      for days & it hasn't snowed & then in the dead of last night      it fell down gently, like a rain of makkolli on the hanok roof & i thought about how quiet it      was & how the sound of snow is like a human breath on a window      or footsteps on the world'