The Shanghai Sonnet
Congealed upon the banks of this
tamed dragon sprawl stacks of crude buildings.
Concrete covers all but two glassy kings,
thick smoggy gusts give them a grimy kiss.
Insipid pillars choke sunlight, endless
roads incise the very earth, wings
of apartments cram into ev’rything,
ev’rywhere stacks upon stacks of units.
Herein lies the future, our dystopia
has arrived through the hazy looking glass.
Perhaps a reminder, utopia
is not coming, or maybe the hourglass
has but some time left. Then the route is clear.
We must turn everything around. And fast.
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