Poem of the Month
Rua da Felicidade

By Ken Norris

Published on June 2, 2014

Walking down Rua da Caldeira,
on my way to the Street of Happiness.

Rua da Felicidade.
These narrow two blocks
were the hub of the infamous
Macau red-light district
back in the twenties and thirties, and after.
It’s hard to believe
that all that fabled wickedness
radiated out from here,
this short street where one now finds
a few Chinese restaurants,
a few red-doored dwellings
inhabited by elderly Chinese
(when they were young
what did they see, what did they do?)
and a whole raft of bakeries and sweet shops.
Cookies and sweets having replaced
who knows what lost sweetnesses?

Friends, it’s a surprise
to all of us
that this book could possibly end
on the Street of Happiness.

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Postscript(s)

The fall of ’47 I was 25 and still living in Viluta. What made me stay so long? What made me linger in that nothing place, that hamlet of ten houses?

Zeitgeist

              So it’s a dreary December, the sun a low ember behind ashen snowfall, when you see him bicycle by.               You know this guy! His paintbrush, you’ve seen it fly as watery blues and greys create a feisty pigeon perched atop a tarnished angel’s head.

Nursery Rhyme for Big Brother

Palace flags and shoot-to-kill orders,
cardboard tanks and well-lit borders,
dungeons and lice, grenades and books,
photos retouched and high-kicking boots,