Monthly Archives: January 2013

Poem of Contentment

Where the seagulls fly,
where a clocktower chimes
of “oranges and lemons”.

Where fruit trees line the path of limes
to get to the gate
that simply says “enter”,
nothing grander
than that.

When I left small tears to leave
the goodbye
on the windowsill.

In it, it seems, a world of bathroom sinks and mirrors,
not being able to name
all the types of birds and
who are this minute
patrolling the hedge-maze
of the green non-existent forest of summer

I am blissful even now.
I’m as happy as I will be
in this peaceful city,
consisting of three chimes of a locked
gate, a clock,
and some songs of citrus fruits.

and this is not a real poem,
just a float,
and float on –
in blue chalk,
just as I am in peace,
and as happy as I will be,
when I get there.

This quiet city,
peopled by robots,
who sing self-assembled
catchphrases and melodies
of My First Sony
that only their inventor found himself repeating,
as the memory of one day
doing something special and somehow significant
even though he could never hope to define what it was then
and is even now.

complete, complete
and feeling like a full moon,
with a pot-bellied sumo wrestler,
on a dinner plate,
on a bed by the river.

I continue on my way beyond
the bend of the lilac river,
where trawler-men are fishing
for their own reasons,
and continue singing
in Edo-peroid Japan,
in the same reflections to which they whisper their non-applicable,
mirrored apologies to people made of smoke,
playing mah-jongg and other games,
on the heads of cranes,
and this isn’t a poem that
needs to look for a reason,
to live, and doesn’t expect to be any good
or better –

the struggling draft of
a poem can fall asleep.