The Last Twelve Hours

I cycled home last night at about 7pm, a taxi was parked in front of our building, driver beside it. What is he doing? He said he couldn’t wait.

his cock half out
my stoppit comes out imsorry

Before bed I wander out to have another look at the crystal dark autumn sky – then again after breakfast this morning.

That pearl in black
that diamond
this bleached morning

7am. Pesky sparrows that will only shit on the verandah. Wait a minute—they’re in heat!

Sparrow pair
back on the porch—
I no longer notice


One Response to “The Last Twelve Hours”

  1. To live happily in Tokyo, one would surely need a little oasis of calm. Here, in just those twelve hours, you have managed to encapsulate a cosmos of the things in your oasis to which you relate – people, the sky, the moon (pearl) and stars (diamonds), the verandah (and perhaps its plants), the birds that come and go… And I feel compelled to join you in your observations. The Japaneseness of the first poem (a senryu) with both the taximan apologizing (quite rightly) for pissing outside your door and you (quite unnecessarily) apologizing for being so bold as to complain – this strikes a chord! A few too many ‘outs’ in that part of the story, though? Thanks for affording us this glimpse into your little watering hole. No, no, (sorry)… those are the wrong words!

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