The poem Tokyo Disappears from an upcoming book project.
Tokyo Disappears
The gate to paradise is undergoing renovation
but will still be open to visitors
tickets are 460 yen
also, I might have lied about some earthquakes
apparently, just lingering motion sickness
It’s November, and Tokyo disappears
“the first snow in 52 years” you say
like a jagged horizon brought back to obscurity
I’m picturing you to disable our distance
an etch-a-sketch flicker under pulverized sky
I would love to see you in your softening city
but Shinjuku Station has 200 exits
“the first snow in 52 years” you say
like a jagged horizon brought back to obscurity
I’m picturing you to disable our distance
an etch-a-sketch flicker under pulverized sky
I would love to see you in your softening city
but Shinjuku Station has 200 exits
Udon Ramen in Shinsaibashi: 300 yen!
Once in a while, I will learn something new here and discover
that I have both an accent and a dialect
that I have both an accent and a dialect
“stay” and “leave” are so close to each other in Japanese
2 or 3 things I didn’t learn fast:
1.
Phantoms don’t need pace to stay with you
they live in the marrow or possibly
something overborrowed
like someone else’s resilience
2.
When someone in Kyoto says
“Would you like another?”
they want you to go home
Maybe 3.
Sinister ones hide remnants in the good things
Every time I call home I forget where I am
anywhere I call home I forget where you are
anywhere I call home I forget where you are