poetic fragments 33

Hide-and-seek

Still remains in the room

Still, in the room,

Your breath.

Water to be filled,

Glass to be solidified.

I look for you

Only outside time.

Facing a burning tree,

An old man’s swallowing

His screams.

And thus

La matinée musicale has come

To the giraffe’s neck.

poetic fragments 32

A hidden being

                 

                                         For Akira Shimizu, a poet

His voices

Still remain

In my room.

So fragile,

Are his words.

So unusual,

Is his silence.

He’s now

Outside language,

Namely the world.

A death, a hidden being.

poetic fragments 31

the night sun

the concert hall:

all doors opened

all windows opened

under the night sun.

among non-being

ears to hear

the earth on the strings

the universe on the keyboards.

that time, that space,

and that love remain

under the night sun.

poetic fragments 30

night flower



two glasses:
two circles of light
at these bottoms
night begins

summer

poetic fragments 29

anyway




spring rain.
pattern poetry
on the bus window.

it's far sound,
far people,
and far memories

rain's falling
into the past.

memories
always outside me.

poetic fragments 28

invisible fire



boys running around.
women talking about
the blossoms.

feel breeze by the finger.

and then
colorless
cherry blossoms
in my mind.

the pale blue
in your eyes.
the pale fire
in the land.

poetic fragments 27

(photo) cherry blossoms in a park








the night sun

for three excellent artists



the concert hall:
all doors opened
all windows opened
under the night sun.

among non-beings
ears to hear
the earth on the strings
the space on the keyboards.

logics beyond logics
under the night sun.




※One day in April, three great artists came to Japan from Russia to encourage us. Their names are Gidon Kremer, Valery Afanassiev,and Giedre Dirvanauskaite. They played Bach, Brahms, Shostatovich, and Schnittke for not only us but also the dead. I thought their music sounded so deeply that it could definitely reach the other world.  I dedicated a poem to three, our dead people, and our dying people.

poetic fragments 26

Bench

The sunny bench

Next a dispenser

Where the homeless man lives.

Sunshine

Moonlight.

He knows well

We are meaningless like them.

He sees to see,

Hears to hear,

Touches to touch,

The world.

He lives to live.

He dies to die.

He left the bench,

Newspaper in the sunlight.

poetic fragments 25

love




the birth:
the sea resides
in you.

the death:
the sea leaves
you.

poetic fragments 24

Someday





The Orion
In the new year's sky.

We are a noisy question.

Life: the great exception
In the universe.

The difference
Between life and nonlife,
nameless flowers know.


The Orion remains,
we go someday
Into the long-forgotten silence.