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3 Hong Kong Riots I, 1967 At five this morning The curfew lifted. Receding, it revealed Shapes that became people Moving among yesterday’s debris. Stones, more so than words Are meaningless, Out of context. Off the Train at Sheung Shui The evening, mellowed By pink skies, cooled By early summer rain Sighs and is still. Dark wet trunks Hush far flung canopies, Young leaves lush in vibrant green. No wonder the Chinese love jade. ...

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