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SEPPUKU
It is difficult to acceptthat the glutinous blobcongealed on the plate beneaththe salt lick worthy pilesof ill cooked vegetablesand fried tofu now limpwas ever related tothe swaying stalks in neat rowsbetween flooded furrows,under the watchful eyea Fujiyama and theShinto gods residing there.What would the old farmerbent over by time thinkif he could see whatlay before…
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LURKER
It is there waiting, no doubtanother trap, simple initially seeming purebut harboring a malevolence that willsoon consume you, leave you broken,so considering the pen as a weapon,to lay waste to it, or for seppuku,both thoughts will no doubt come to mind. It has always been like this, always will,different if you chose the digital path,but…
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an old writer and his words 