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CRADLING NIGHT
Last night the moon hid daring the stars to give chase across the void but they preferred their slow procession. I looked long, hard for her but she was master of this game. I looked for her behind the neon signs blazing from countless buildings electric grave stones marking the resting place of peace on…
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TENT CITY
From my window on the twenty-sixth floor they appear as so many blue roofs, arranged in small villages in Shinjuku-Chuo Park below. At 6:30 in the morning many older Japanese gather in sweater vests and hats despite the humidity to perform the tai chi ritual. Nearby hands and feet emerge from blue tarp tents crammed…
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TOKYO SCENES (PART 2)
Scene 1 From atop the Century Hyatt Shinjuku Chuo Park is a desolate maze of asphalt, its fountains stilled by winter. The horizon is dotted by the cranes, great and small, perched precariously engaged in their manic dance bending and swooping in defiance of the gods. Scene 2 Shinjuku Station is washed by the waves of…
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TOKYO SCENES (PART 1)
Scene I Garish neon blazes its siren call, Lucky 7777, Vegas Land, Anima Parlor, countless others, and inside the Pachinko machines scream out their riotous cacophony, drowning thought as the balls dance in their maze indifferent to the intent stares of the player, and the smoke which covers the room with its acrid pall. Scene…
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AN ENDLESS KNOT
You are surprised when the young man approaches you, his saffron robes a bit faded, his sandals more worn flip-flops, his smiling face almost too happy for a cool morning on the rough pavement of a street in Vienna, cafes pressing the curb. He isn’t begging, not like at home, at least, but he does bow…
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AWAKENING
He could not hope to remember how he got there, he had wandered in search of nothing in particular, save dinner as his hunger grew, but in Shinjuku you needn’t read Japanese since the menus sat molded in plastic in the window of even the smallest restaurants. He began to look more intently when he…
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SANCTUARY
The motion begins deep within you, bleeds quickly outward until it blankets the web between your fingers and toes, collects behind the ears as you hurtle on parallel steel threads connecting Tokyo and Osaka. You are down to the broad fields of golden-yellow beckoning the impending harvest, the rice swaying in the unfelt breeze. In…
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ENDLESS FLIGHT
Painfully jammed into the middle seat of five three hours into the fourteen hour flight SFO to Tokyo Narita, it is easy to imagine myself a sheet of origami paper carefully and precisely folded into a crane wings bound in anticipation of taking to the air.
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SHINJUKU
The sun rises slowly painfully, stiff from the cold night air, creeping upward, barely warming the streets. In Shinjuku Central Park the trees are still despite the cold breeze. The small group gathers for morning stretches and Tai Chi, smiling toward the fountain and the ten foot waterfall they call Niagara. The siren cuts through…
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an old writer and his words 