Places

Singapore, Singapore

Singapore, Singapore

« A little later, we might abandon cities altogether, scatter the rich grain of humanity across galaxies, those vast plains and endless glades where everyone would have a bungalow, swimming-pool, garden space. »  —Alvin Pang, Real Estate

After Darren Soh

A great hand rises from the ground

to sweep the insubstantial sand,

gathering to a crown, an iron

crown, the roots of homes. A fire

chills the...

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Until the age of thirteen he lived with his grandparents and their daughter – his father's elder sister – and her husband and only son, in a tiny three-room apartment that no longer exists. Until the age of...

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A poem written inspired by the Silk Princess, a Chinese wood panel painting from the 7th or 8th century. As the BBC's "A History of the World" describes the artifact:

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between our arrivals and our
Departures, it is a strangely
guiltless territory

- Marne L. Kilates

With my wife in her usual high-altitude slump,
seat-belt fastened, the cabin...

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Death, My Funny Valentine
By Yeow Kai Chai (Singapore)

Picture this. A blonde dude decked out in shimmering mail sitting on a stone outcrop. He’s playing a game of chess. His sparring partner? A tall,...

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“Wealth … is the means by which we fulfill our desires.”
- Interview with Stan Davis & Chris Meyers, Harvard Business School Publishing

Hence the cat’s languid stretch, its bullet spring,...

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There’s always an off-chance the hype is true
and the city of tomorrow unimaginably
close at hand: Flying cars, Robo-maids, Gleaming
towers strung with hyper-trains and skyways.

Or we could...

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for R.

O, how was America then, pre-discovery? Suffice to say there is no experience like being smack in the middle of this billowing concerto. It could turn out to be our tarnation or salvation,...

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Could the Singaporean applicant not have protested
and thrust a poem of simple scenery instead?

Spot the ancient croc submerged in green,
bifocal periscope scanning for terrorist movement....

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Careful: step out into the not-quite-street.

It used to be a swamp, and sunk boar, pushed

roots into the air, and stank, and free

from old purposes still it tries to take

you in....

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In my father’s head is a map of Singapore quite different from the ever-dancing web of abstract colours that we have come to know from the official records, the bus and train stations or the increasingly unreliable...

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How do I colour my city
with creatures busy in living?
Do I walk along as if on an errand
seeking a lotus pond afloat with enlightenment?
Do I go in search of orchid petals
to unfurl...

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