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TSANG Tsou-choi “The King of Kowloon” Call him what you will Postmodern Eccentric Or plain nut Goodman Tsang Proclaims himself The King of Kowloon For decades He’s been scribbling On pavements On walls On anything with a surface Reams and reams Of calligraphy A rough child’s hand Calligraphy none the less The post postmoderns call it art A public nuisance That even our hard-nosed Governments have tolerated My glimpse of a thing undefined Through his years of singular effort Perhaps speaks of something Stilly ineffable Not altogether unrefined As I weakly try out an idea Tsang now hobbles On crutches How much longer Will he be scribbling still ...

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