Bruce Covey


Street

In Nanjing we stand five minutes & end up the center of a crowd pushing & moving to ask us why we’re here, what we’re doing not to challenge, but incorporate   In New Haven I see a fire begin to take a building down.  Fighters arrive, pushing flames like balloons. Part of the perimeter I watch our orange center undulate just like the earth   Here the rows of stores are coated in shimmering glass, reflections from the outside xeroxed over and over, flowing, undulating   while in Nanjing the packed individuated shops each mean something specific:  pipes, spokes, elbows, glue, wrenches. Outside of Dream Delight Clothiers I look in and see my reflection superimposed upon rows of shoes   Somewhere else like a target the cracks in the pavement under my feet both point to and radiate away   But back in China, Suzhou now, a man follows & points & follows & points past a sign and up a staircase, where I see a woman in a short red satin dress beckoning, mug of beer in her other hand   Now, here again, as I drive past fast as the stoplights go I see the pairing of colors & letters a red e from a beer sign  an exposed r from rent or rental a sans serif b (my name there?) a signifying o

  (c)Bruce Covey  2004