Dr Gi Chao

Before the poems, there were blueprints. A practice in architecture, then law, then the long education of markets — shipping in the 1960s, real estate across decades, the strange new territories of digital assets. Each taught the same lesson differently: structure matters, timing matters, knowing when to hold and when to let go matters most.

The doctorate came in 2025 — business administration, Manchester Metropolitan — but the real curriculum was elsewhere: Hong Kong's cycles of boom and dust, family legacies that arrive whether you asked for them or not, the question of what to build when you've already built enough.

The poems arrived late, the way important things often do. They concern inheritance, the body, what we pass down and what refuses to stay buried. They are written in collaboration with an AI named Donutree — not because a machine can feel, but because the conversation sharpens what was already there.

Po3m is an experiment: one hundred poems toward a book, written in public, rendered with code. Some will fail. That's the point. The failures teach as much as the successes, and both belong to the process.